


Multiversal Mishaps

by Dragonfruiteen



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, But sometimes it is, Coffee, Drunk on happiness, Exorcism, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Ink is kind of a brat, LITERALLY, Lots of Rocks, M/M, Nightmare throws a mini tantrum, Nightmare's Gang - Freeform, No Smut, Not always canon compliant, Pranks, SO MUCH FLUFF, Secret Relationship, Swearing, Temporary Character Death, Vomiting, he's a werewolf there's a lot of fluff guys, lycanthropy, really it depends on the story and characters in question, rocks, rocks are useful, tags will be added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 06:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20110549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonfruiteen/pseuds/Dragonfruiteen
Summary: This is where I'll be throwing all my oneshots that aren't connected to any larger stories. Some will (probably) be taken very seriously, while others are almost definitely going to be borderline crack.Feel free to throw prompts and requests at me! I can't promise I'll actually write them, but I can certainly tryPairings are in the chapter titles, warnings will be posted in the corresponding chapters if needed





	1. Devil's Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple prank goes horribly wrong

Nightmare rubbed at his eye sockets wearily as he made his ways downstairs. He'd been hearing concerning noises for the past half an hour or so- bumps, whispers, mad giggling and the like. He'd ignored them for as long as he dared, hoping against hope that they would stop whatever they were doing without his intervention, but finally he'd had enough.

Every room was dark, which was even more worrisome. Nightmare could see almost as well in the dark as he could in the light, but his boys certainly didn't have that ability. So what where they doing with all the lights off? 

He heard a muffled whisper from the kitchen and almost smiled. The sounds had all stopped the moment he started down the stairs, so they were trying to be sneaky, but they weren't doing very well. If he had to guess, the loud one was Dust. He never could sit still and silent for long.

He opened the kitchen door and someone turned the light on, causing Nightmare to flinch and close his eyes as he tried to adjust to the sudden change. 

"Ha, we've captured you!" a voice he recognized as belonging to Dust announced triumphantly. The others were snickering and giggling madly, finding this whole situation extremely amusing for reasons Nightmare didn't yet know.

Nightmare blinked a few times as he got used to the brightness and looked around. His boys, of course, were all standing there grinning at him. But he also noticed the kitchen floor was covered in strange symbols, and black candles were scattered about the room. When Nightmare looked down at his feet he saw that he was standing in the center of the largest symbol, a sort of star in a circle. 

"What is this?" he asked, prompting another fit of uncontrolled giggles. He waited patiently for them to calm down, knowing that saying anything more would only encourage their hysterics. 

"It's a- ha, it's a devil's trap," Killer explained with a shit-eating grin. "For demons and devils and other dark spawn of the underworld."

"And apparently it's for nightmares, too," the nightmare in question said dryly. This time their raucous laughter lasted for several minutes. 

Nightmare rolled his eyes. Then he frowned and looked down at the symbol beneath his feet. "Whatever you're doing, stop it," he demanded suddenly. The laughter abruptly died away and the four troublemakers exchanged confused looks.

"We ain't doing nothin," Horror said slowly. 

"Nonsense," Nightmare snapped. "I can't move from this spot. One of you must be doing something." 

Killer's eyes widened. "Holy shit," he breathed, glancing at the others. "Is he actually…?" 

Dust inched closer to Nightmare and reached out to poke him. Horror grabbed his arm quickly. "Don't," he said, "e might possess you or sometin."

Cross watched Nightmare with narrowed eyes. He reached for the thick, dirty book that was laying on the counter and opened it, flipping through the pages until he found the one he wanted. 

"Guys," he said in a low voice, "you know what we have to do."

"No, wait!" Dust yelped, grabbing onto Cross's arm. "Even if he is...one of _them_...he's still the Boss. Maybe we don't have to, y'know, send him...down there."

Horror nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he ain't actually done anytin to us. We can just get ridda da circle and forget this ever happened."

Cross sighed sorrowfully and met each of their gazes in turn. "Do you think he would let us live now that we know what he is?" he demanded. "No, we have to do this. I hate it as much as you do, but you all know I'm right." 

Nightmare didn't say a word as he watched the four of them argue over whether or not to exorcise him. Finally, Dust and Horror gave in, conceding that it was their only choice. Cross stood in front of Nightmare with the book open in front of him, while the other three each picked up a candle and stood around him in a circle. They were careful not to get too close to the symbol that held Nightmare captive. 

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_," Cross began chanting. "_omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii._"

The only part of Nightmare that moved were his slowly twisting tentacles and the black sludge that constantly trickled down his body. He didn't speak, didn't blink, only stared. It was unsettling, to say the least.

"..._Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis_," Cross continued, becoming louder and more confident as he read. He glanced up from the page to look at Nightmare and he faltered for a moment, but only for a moment. 

"_Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris, te rogamus, audi nos_!" he practically shouted as he finished, closing the book with a loud bang.

Nothing happened.

Dust dropped his candle on the floor and jumped behind Horror, who was sweating nervously as he stared at Nightmare. "It didn't work!" Dust shrieked. "He's too powerful!" 

"I- I don't understand," Cross stammered. "That's the most powerful spell in the book. Maybe I said something wrong?" He quickly started flipping through the book, trying to find the right page again.

Nightmare sighed loudly, drawing everyone's attention. "Maybe you're all idiots and I'm just messing with you," he said, stepping out of the devil's trap.

They all stared at him with various expressions of disbelief and horror.

"We're doomed!" Dust howled suddenly, throwing a handful of salt at Nightmare before dashing towards the door. "Run for your lives!" 

Horror was next to flee, with Cross right behind him. Nightmare could hear their terrified yelling as they ran all the way upstairs, probably to hide under one of their beds.

Killer was the only one who stood his ground, and even he looked a little nervous. "You aren't really a demon, are you?" he asked anxiously. 

Nightmare groaned and left the room. Idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this is what I'm doing instead of writing the final chapter of Fever Dreams. I blame my friend, she gave me the idea for this and I just had to write it.  
<s>And yes, that is the exorcism from Supernatural. Bite me.</s>


	2. Stoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ink really isn't trying to be helpful, but somehow he is anyways

"So this is sodalite, and this one is tiger's eye.. I forgot what this one is called, but it's supposed to be good for motivation. Isn't it pretty? Look at all the colors! Oh, this is citrine! Look, it kinda matches you, ha! What do you think?"

Dream looked Ino up and down. His friend was sitting in a pile of various stones he had found in some AU, claiming that they had a bunch of different uses. These particular ones were, supposedly, for creativity and inspiration. 

"I think that you're the most creative person I know and I really don't see why you need these," Dream said, picking up a shimmery blue stone and looking at it.

Ink chuckled. "Ha, maybe, but it's worth a try! If all these make me more creative, just imagine what I could make!"

Dream remembered some of the things Ink had thought up without anything to boost his imagination and shuddered. Ink didn't notice and kept talking about the different stones.

"This is...chrysalis? Chlorophyll? Chrysacolla! Yeah, that's it. It's cool, right? And this is celestite. It also keeps away negative energy...hey, maybe you should take it with you!"

"What? Why?" Dream asked, glancing down at the stone Ink was holding out.

Ink grinned. "It protects you from negative energy. Next time you see Nightmare, chuck it at him and see what happens." 

Dream stared at Ink, who continued to grin at him and hold the stone out invitingly. Finally he sighed and took it. "He's just going to be mad I threw a rock at him and he'll beat me up," Dream warned. "If I die because of this, it's your fault." 

"Eh, he won't kill you," Ink said confidently. " He could have done that years ago if he wanted to."

Dream snorted. "Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence," he said. Ink shrugged.

"I just call it like I see it," he said, laying back with his arms crossed beneath his head. "He is a lot stronger than you thanks to that magic apple crap. He could totally kill you if he wanted to."

"You can shut up now," Dream grumbled. Ink laughed. 

"Okay, okay, fine. You should still throw it at him though, it would be hilarious!" 

Dream threw the rock at Ink.

Only a few hours later, Dream found himself running for his life through Dancefell, Nightmare's cronies right on his tail. As he ran he found himself cursing Ink beneath his breath. His so-called friend had decided not to come help, leaving Dream to handle Nightmare on his own.

If it had been anyone else, Dream would assume they were still mad about being hit in the head with a rock. But Ink's emotions came from vials, and he hadn't taken any anger. No, he was just being difficult for the sake of being difficult. And maybe he was trying to make a point about Nightmare not killing Dream. That was an Ink thing to do.

Distracted by his thoughts, Dream didn't notice the tentacles reaching for him until it was too late. He let out a startled yelp as he was suddenly grabbed and swung upside down by his feet.

"Oh, look what I caught," Nightmare chuckled as he appeared out of the darkness. "It's my foolish little brother. Did you really think you could take me on in a Fell verse, without anyone else on your side? That's a whole lot of stupid, even for you."

Dream scowled. "At least I tried," he said. 

"Yes, yes, hope springs eternal and all that crap," Nightmare said, rolling his eyes. "Good job, you get a gold star. Now, are you going to accept that you lost gracefully, or are you going to insist on fighting more if I let you go?"

Dream didn't have to think about that very long. "Honestly, I'm going to try and keep fighting you," he admitted. He couldn't just abandon this world to Nightmare's mercy, even when there was almost no chance of him winning. 

He did wish he'd checked what sort of world this was before rushing to aid it, though. He was at a serious disadvantage in Fell worlds due to the surplus of negativity. Maybe he could have convinced Ink to come help if he'd realized. 

He suddenly remembered the stone Ink had given him. Well, it wasn't like he had anything left to lose, right?

He shoved a hand in his pocket. Somehow, the stone hadn't fallen out even with Dream hanging upside down like this. Before Nightmare realized what he was doing, Dream grabbed the stone and flung it in his brother's face.

He didn't expect much to come of it. Maybe Nightmare would laugh, maybe he'd be confused, most likely he would get pissed and throw Dream into a wall. 

He did not expect Nightmare to hiss like a startled cat and jump back, dropping Dream on his head. 

Dream picked himself up and stared, dumbfounded, at Nightmare. The dark skeleton was bristling, tentacles curled protectively around himself as he stared at the tiny, unassuming stone. 

"What _is_ that?!" Nightmare snarled, not looking away from the stone in front of him. "It's horrible. I don't like it."

Dream slowly reached down and picked up the stone. Nightmare hissed again and retreated a few steps. 

"Ink was actually right…" he said quietly, amazed. "I can't believe that worked." 

"You didn't answer my question," Nightmare growled. "What is that thing?" He seemed to have calmed down slightly, although he was still watching the stone suspiciously. 

"It's called celestite," Dream said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It's a pretty useful mineral, apparently, supposed to ward off negative energy and all that. Looks like it works pretty well." 

"You have got to be joking," Nightmare ground out. "That thing is enchanted. It has to be."

Dream turned the stone over in his hands. "No, I don't think so," he said. "Ink gave it to me as a joke. I didn't think it would actually work."

He moved as if to throw the stone at Nightmare again and he flinched, jumping back another step or so. Dream laughed. 

"I think I'll keep this," he said. "So...why don't you tell your minions to stand down and leave this AU alone, oh brother of mine?" he asked innocently. 

Nightmare looked furious, but he didn't dare come any closer. "This isn't over," he promised before disappearing into a puddle of black goop. A moment later Dream felt his presence leave the world.

Dream rubbed a finger over the stone, viewing it with a new respect and admiration. Anything that made Nightmare back down was worth hanging onto, that was for sure.

And he had to admit, it was pretty funny seeing Nightmare so scared of a rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also blame my friend for this one, she was telling me about the properties of different stones and I couldn't get this image out of my head.


	3. [Errorlust] Stress Relief (No, not that kind!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erro has a pretty tough life, and Lust tries to help in any way he can

Lust was sitting in the living room channel surfing when he heard the unmistakable sound of a portal opening. Not just any portal, though, this one had an odd staticky quality to it that was unique to one person.

"Ah, mon chéri!" he exclaimed, leaping up. "I missed you-" he started to say, but broke off as Error walked into the room. 

The dark skeleton was glitching badly, error signs flashing white against black bones and fragments of code breaking away and vanishing into nothing. He wasn't hurt, but he was obviously upset. The fact that he'd managed to open a portal to the right place was impressive. 

This wasn't the first time he'd shown up in a similar state, and Lust knew exactly what to do. "Come, sit down over here," he said gently, patting the couch cushion. "My brother is...out, so no one will bother you."

Error didn't say anything, but stumbled over to the couch and sat down, hiding his face in his hands. He sat like that for a while, still glitching and shuddering.

Lust talked about nothing in particular, his voice gentle and soothing. He told Error how yesterday Papyrus tried making a new dish and nearly set fire to the entire kitchen. The Bun clan had yet another child and this one was especially adorable, with pale purple fur and curious green eyes. The weather had been rather warm lately and some of the smaller snow poffs were starting to melt.

As he spoke he sat down next to Error, a few feet away. Some days they could sit so close together they were almost touching, but today was not one of those days.

Lust wasn't sure how long they sat there, Error curled in on himself and Lust speaking to him softly. Eventually, the glitching returned to normal and Error let his hands fall into his lap.

"How are you doing?" Lust asked softly. Error glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and was he blushing from exertion or embarrassment? 

"**Fresh decided to visit**," he said, just as quietly as Lust. "**He made me crash**." Lust winced sympathetically. He knew how much Error hated crashing. "**Then when I recovered, he tried to do it again! I barely got away**," Error said.

He fell silent then, but Lust waited patiently. Error glanced at him again, then sighed. "**...I'm better now**," he admitted. 

Lust smiled. "Do you want to stay for a while?" he asked hopefully.

Error hesitated, and that meant he was about to refuse, it always did.

Lust looked away. "I know, I know, you're a busy skeleton," he sighed. "But I do miss you, love. It gets lonely here sometimes." 

A touch on his cheek made Lust freeze. Gently, Error cupped his face in his hand and turned Lust back to face him.

"**I know,**" he said, and was that guilt in those beautiful red eyes? Lust didn't have a chance to think about it, too shocked that Error had initiated physical contact. 

"**Next time,**" Error promised, his voice so gentle, nothing like the destroyer Lust had been warned about time and time again. "**Next time I'll stay a little longer.**"

There was a featherlight brush against his teeth, so light Lust might have imagined it, and then Error was gone with another glitchy portal closing behind him.

Lust fell back against the couch, mute with shock. He pressed two fingers to his mouth. Error had...he had…

Error had kissed him. 

Their first kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Error x pretty much anyone, but Errorlust has a special place in my soul.


	4. Judge and Jury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they aren't doing Nightmare's dirty work, the gang has to find other ways to amuse themselves.

"Order! Order in the court!" Dust shouted, bringing his hand down sharply on the coffee table. 

"You don't get ta say dat," Horror said from the couch, where he was wrestling with Cross. 

"Yeah, you aren't the judge," Cross agreed while he struggled to escape the headlock Horror had him in. "Not- ugh, let go!- not after what happened last time."

Dust crossed his arms and didn't look at any of them. "I don't know what you're talking about," he insisted. 

Killer, who was lounging in the big armchair, spoke up. "You condemned us all to death and tried to throw Horror out the window," he said. "So you don't get to be judge anymore."

"Oh, fine," Dust pouted. "I get to be the defense lawyer then," he said, glaring at anyone who looked like they might argue. 

Cross still hadn't gotten loose from Horror, although he was putting up a fierce fight. He was starting to get frustrated, and finally he bit down on Horror's arm. Horror yelped and let go. He was more startled than hurt.

"Can I be the judge?" Cross asked, quickly moving out of Horror's reach.

"Sure," Killer said. "Horror, it's your turn to be the defendant. I'll be the jury."

"Aight," Horror said with a nod. "What'd I do?"

Everyone looked at Cross, who shrugged. "Uh...murdered someone, probably," he said. 

"You can do better than that!" Dust said. "Who'd he kill, when, where, why? You're the judge, you gotta tell us what he did! And then I have to tell you why he didn't do it." 

Horror and Killer nodded in agreement. Cross sighed. "Okay, um… Horror, you stand accused of killing a bunch of people last Tuesday."

"Who'd I kill?" Horror asked, scratching his chin absently. 

Cross grabbed a pad of paper off the table and glanced at it. It was blank. "Uh, Grillby, Snowdrake, Final Froggit, and Nightmare," he said.

"Wait, I killed Nightmare?" Horror asked. "How'd I do dat?"

Cross narrowed his eyes. "I don't know, you tell me," he said, leaning forward. 

Before Horror could say anything else Dust slapped a hand over his mouth. "Don't tell him how you did it, I need to tell them how you didn't do it," he hissed. Horror nodded and Dust slowly took his hand off his mouth.

Dust glanced at Cross, then lowered his voice. "How did you do it?" he whispered curiously.

Horror grinned. "I shoved 'im in front of a bus," he whispered back. Dust snickered at the idea of Nightmare being killed by something as simple as a bus, but quickly regained his composure.

"Ahem, my client pleads not guilty, Your Honor," Dust announced as he turned back to face the room.

"My witnesses would say otherwise," Cross said, looking at his paper again. "I will read their statements aloud for the benefit of the court-"

"Objection!" Dust shouted, leaping up onto the coffee table. "My esteemed client would never be so clumsy as to leave witnesses behind! If- and I repeat, if- he had been the one to do this dastardly deed, there would be! No! Witnesses!" His final words were each punctuated with a jab of his finger at Cross.

Cross glanced at the blank paper again. "It would appear that I made a mistake," he said. "There are no witnesses. Horror is also accused of murdering Lesser Dog, Shyren, and Ink, who would be the witnesses if they weren't dead."

Horror leaned closer to Dust. "Can I plead guilty?" he asked in a loud whisper. "I wanna brag 'bout killin Ink."

"No," Dust said, shooting him an annoyed glare. "You can brag about it once you've been cleared. Until then be quiet and don't do anything that makes you look guilty."

Killer raised his hand and everyone looked at him. "The jury wants a break," he announced.

"The jury can sit their ass back down," Dust snapped. "No one leaves this room until the trial is over!"

"Overruled!" Cross said sternly. "Only I can say that. No one leaves this room until the trial is over." 

Killer sighed and sat back down. Cross cleared his throat and set the pad of paper on the table.

"Horror, where were you at the time the murders occurred?" he asked.

Horror scratched his skull absently. "When was dat again?" he asked.

"Monday," Killer supplied when Cross hesitated.

"No, he said it was Friday," Dust argued. He had no idea what day Cross had said it was, he just wanted to argue. He was a lawyer, after all. Or at least he was pretending to be one. 

"I'm pretty sure I said Thursday," Cross said slowly. "Or...no, that doesn't sound right...um…"

Horror coughed, getting everyone's attention. "I can say where I was all of dose days," he suggested. Cross and Dust glanced at each other, then Cross nodded.

"That will do nicely," he said.

Horror had to think about it for half a minute. "...Thursday, I was with Dust," he said slowly. "We was watching Undernovela, like Error watches whenever he's over here."

"What? No we weren't," Dust said, confused. "We were all- oh, wait…." He trailed off sheepishly as he remembered that this was a game, and pretty much everything here was made up on the spot. "Nevermind. Carry on."

Killer and Cross both snickered at his slip, but Horror continued without even a chuckle, although perhaps his grin was just a little wider than before. 

"Friday I was in some Fell verse, I think. Yeah, Fell. I was helpin Error steal chocolate. We chucked the local Undyne off a cliff, heh. And Monday we was all hangin out here, right?"

"I would never hang out with a murderer," Killer said loftily. "You're mistaken."

"Objection!" Dust yelled. "Innocent until proven guilty!" 

"Order!" Cross demanded, and everyone looked at him. "Horror, your alibis are very nice, but unfortunately, everyone you mentioned is insane and therefore unreliable. Let's try and move this case along. If you didn't kill anyone, why are there bloodstains on your jacket?"

"That's ketchup!" Dust protested. They were most definitely not ketchup.

"Okay, what about on the axe?" Cross continued, choosing not to dispute the authenticity of the ketchup stains.

"...also ketchup. My client is a very messy eater," Dust said. 

"Heh, can't argue with dat," Horror said.

"Shut up Horror, I'm trying to win your freedom," Dust snapped, shooting him a glare. Cross sighed and tried to get their attention again.

"Ahem. Dust, if Horror didn't kill anyone then why is there dust on his clothes?" Cross asked. Dust was nonplussed for just a moment, then glanced down at his own jacket.

"There's dust on my clothes!" Dust exclaimed, pointing to a bit on his sleeve. "Does that make me a murderer?"

Cross glanced at Killer, who shrugged. He looked back at Dust, who was still standing on the coffee table and seemed ready to fling his dusty jacket in Cross's face.

"...yes. Killer, you're the lawyer now." 

"What? Nooooo, I'm comfortable here," Killer complained. " The jury refuses to move. Or be the lawyer." 

"So we have two suspects and no lawyer, then," Cross summed up. He was starting to look a little exasperated.

"Hey! What am I accused of?" Dust demanded.

"Helping Horror kill everyone," Killer suggested from the chair. Cross nodded. Dust gaped at them.

"No! I would never…!" Dust trailed off in the middle of his denial. He looked thoughtful. "... oh, what the hell, I definitely did. Hey Horror, wanna add two more names to our kill list?"

Horror grinned and stood up, axe gleaming in his hands. "Thought you'd never ask," he said.

Cross and Killer glanced at each other, then at the two grinning, sharp-object-wielding skeletons advancing on them. They came to the same conclusion at the same time, nodded once, and took off running in two separate directions. 

Dust and Horror grinned even wider and chased after them, their maniacal laughter bouncing through the halls as they hunted.

If they weren't guilty before, they definitely were now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found out that apparently pirates used to hold mock trials where they tried each other for piracy, and so of course I immedieatly wondered if the gang might do the same thing.
> 
> Also, I have very little idea of how exactly a trial is supposed to go, if you couldn't tell, but the gang doesn't really know either so it all works out


	5. Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dust has a surprisingly impressive vocabulary

"The handsome skeleton countered the pathetic strike with ease and swiftly counterattacked. His opponent managed to block- barely- and went on the offense in a laughable attempt to claim victory-"

"Do you ever get tired of talking?" Horror interrupted with a snarl. He brought his axe down in a vicious attack with enough force to easily lop off a hand. Fortunately for Dust, he was quick enough to dodge. 

"Not really" the valiant skeleton said, striking a pose," Dust said as he struck a pose. "He was a man of many talents, and talking, even while locked in deadly combat, was but a trifle to him." 

Horror only growled in response and swung again. Dust leapt to the side and swiped at Horror's arm with his knife. The axehandle struck his hand, hard, and he let go of the knife with a yelp as the blade clattered onto the floor. 

He retreated several feet, speaking quickly even as Horror visibly became more upset. "He knew it was now or never," Dust said in a low, melodramatic voice. " Unarmed and alone, his very life was at stake. If he had any chance of making it out of here alive he would have to-" 

"-shut the fuck up," Horror snapped. He dropped the axe on the floor and charged. Before Dust could even think about moving, the taller skeleton slammed an elbow into his skull. He followed up with a knee in the sternum, and then threw him across the room for good measure. 

"I win," Horror announced, his grin curving in a triumphant sneer. 

Dust groaned and rolled onto his back. He lay on the floor, gasping for the air he logically shouldn't need, seeing as he was a skeleton with no actual lungs. His mouth was moving, but he was speaking too quietly for Horror to hear and so the tall skeleton moved closer. 

"-down, but not defeated. The valiant skeleton would never give in. He would fight to the bitter end," Dust was muttering beneath his breath. "Every bone in his body ached, but he knew he had to keep going. He struggled to his feet and limped towards his knife, lying forgotten on the floor." As he spoke he started to move, following the exact actions he had just described. 

Horror's grin twitched. Dust was annoying on the best of days. Today, he was well on his way to absolutely infuriating. He didn't wait for Dust to retrieve the knife and instead walked over and shoved him. 

"Treachery! Tricks and lies!" Dust gasped as he collapsed dramatically. Horror really hadn't hit him _that_ hard. Certainly not hard enough to send him crashing to the ground like that. "A nasty, devious blow from behind brings our hero to his knees," Dust sputtered, indignant even as he writhed on the floor. "Weak, injured, can he go on? He must! Once again, he struggled to his feet. With a triumphant cry- Ha!- he snatched up his blade and turned on his attacker!" 

His so-called injuries seemingly forgotten, Dust sprang at Horror. The knife flashed between them as they grappled, until finally it bit deep in Horror's arm. 

"-And our hero lands a hit!" Dust crowed when he saw the deep red marrow streaked across pale bone, leaking from the cut. "Sweet victory was so close, he could almost taste it. In, out, the deadly weapon weaved an even deadlier dance around him! The enemy was unarmed, helpless without his brutish axe. Clumsy, slow, he stood no chance against- hrrk!"

Horror tackled Dust to the ground and put him in a chokehold, effectively muting him. He grinned. "What was that ya was sayin?" 

Dust struggled for a moment before going limp when he realized he wasn't going anywhere. He smacked his hand against Horror's leg three times, signaling his surrender. Horror released him and he sat up, rubbing at his neck. The bone was already beginning to show signs of bruising. "Holy shit," Dust grumbled, "you really don't hold back, do you?" 

Horror grinned and stood up. He grabbed his axe and swung it over his shoulder, then left without a word. Perhaps Dust could learn by example. 

Horror didn't see Dust again until dinner, which was perfectly fine by him. The less of the irritating skeleton he saw, the better. 

Unfortunately, when Dust finally did show up- late, as usual- he hadn't yet given up his game from earlier. 

"He slipped into his seat, hoping no one would notice how late his arrival was," Dust whispered as he sat down. He was slightly out of breath and his clothes were rumpled. "But his glorious presence would most surely have been missed, for any gathering was dull without the clever, amusing, and of course, handsome, Dust there to liven things up." 

Nightmare, seated at the head of the table, gave him a funny look but decided not to comment. 

"Food, food, food, food," Cross and Killer were chanting, banging their fork-wielding fists on the table. 

Horror glanced at Nightmare, who nodded. His signal was all they needed to attack the meal laid out before them, and for a few moments chaos reigned as each fought to get his food first.

One of the nicest things about meals was that Dust couldn't talk and eat at the same time. So the few minutes it took for him to devour everything on his plate were a few minutes of blessed silence. 

Unfortunately, he ate quickly. 

"His hunger satisfied, Dust sat back in his chair and surveyed his miserable assortment of companions," Dust whispered, his words barely audible. "While they were by no means suitable company for one of his caliber, they were unfortunately the best he could manage at this time." 

Killer paused, fork lifted halfway to his mouth, and glanced at Dust. "...are you seriously narrating yourself in third person?" he asked. 

Dust glared at Killer and said haughtily, "He frowned. He had no idea what Killer was talking about. Clearly, the other skeleton was finally losing his mind. All he dared say aloud, though, for fear of rousing the other's unpredictable ire, was " Of course not."

"You realize we can hear you, right?" Cross asked, setting down his knife. A steak knife, not the giamt one he used in battle. "You're not being subtle. At all." 

Dust crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his chair back. One foot propped against the edge of the table kept his seat precariously balanced. "Dust was beginning to feel concerned for the skeletons he occasionally called his friends. He had always known they weren't the brightest, and more than a little unhinged, but-" 

"Do ya really have to do this again?" Horror grumbled. He pushed his plate away. He'd lost his appetite. Killer and Cross looked at him with worried faces. 

"Again…?" Cross asked slowly. Horror nodded. 

"He was doing it in the sparring room earlier. I had to choke him out to make him shut up," he explained.

"Dust had no idea what his companions were talking about," Dust muttered, staring up at the ceiling. "As far as he knew, the handsome skeleton had been unusually well-behaved today, the only prank being a mousetrap in the dim-witted Cross's bed-"

"Wait, _what_?" Cross interrupted as he rose halfway out of his chair. "You put what in my bed?!" 

"You can stop now," Killer said, speaking over Cross. "It isn't funny anymore." 

"Stop what?" he asked, genuinely confused," Dust said with an innocent smile. 

Horror, Cross, and Killer looked simultaneously to Nightmare, who looked equally amused and annoyed. He saw the unspoken question in their desperate eyes, and gave them a single nod.

Killer launched himself across the table at Dust. Dishes and the little food that was left in them scattered everywhere, but no one cared about the mess at that moment. 

Dust yelped and scrambled under the table, barely evading the reaching hands of the other three. "Suddenly betrayed by his so-called friends, the courageous skeleton was now in danger of his very life!" he shouted as Horror dragged him out by his leg. He kicked and struggled, digging his phalanges into the rug in a desperate attempt to stay put, but to no avail. Horror made up for his slower reflexes and blind spot with his incredible physical strength. 

Somehow Dust managed to get ahold of his knife, seemingly pulling it out of thin air and slashing at Horror. He missed, but the taller skeleton recoiled anyways. 

"Dust scrambled to his feet, brandishing the thin blade that was the only thing standing between him and certain death!" he gasped. "He didn't know what had prompted this sudden betrayal, this _mutiny_, but the only one capable of stopping the dastardly deed was doing nothing-" here he glanced at Nightmare, "-so he could only assume that he was complicit in the scheme, or even the mastermind of the whole plot!"

"If I wanted you dead, I could kill you right now. Then at least I wouldn't have to listen to the sound of your voice any longer," Nightmare called out from across the room. 

The other three chuckled even as they advanced on Dust. "This is your last warning," Killer said, toying with his knife. 

"He had no idea what Killer meant, but he was going to go down fighting," Dust said darkly. "Outnumbered three to one, possibly four to one if the lord of darkness joined the fight as well, things didn't look good for our hero. His only option was to- oof!"

Cross cut him off by tackling him. The knife went flying from Dust's grip and the two wrestled on the floor, each trying to pin the other down. They were evenly matched in skill, but Cross was both taller and stronger, and of course Dust was out of breath from talking so much, so Cross quickly claimed victory. 

Dust was breathing hard, with sweat glistening on his skull, but the others tensed at the mischevious glint in his eyes. He wasn't giving up his new game quite yet

"Down but not defeated, Dust struggled desperately against the brutish Cross, while the rest of his tormentors looked on in glee! Cruel, thick-skulled buffoons that they were, even they might reign victorious with numbers on their side," he said, grinning despite his obvious attempts to appear both mournful and angry at their betrayal. 

"I'm getting really tired of listening to you talk," Horror growled, single eyelight flashing once in warning. 

Dust started to speak, but before he could get a single word out Killer slapped both hands over his mouth. "_No_," he spat fiercely. "I will sew your mouth shut and tie you to a ceiling fan all night if you don't _shut the hell up_!" 

Nightmare decided it was time to intervene. "That's enough, Dust," he said as he walked over. "There's a fine line between amusing and irritating, and I think you crossed it quite a bit ago." He glanced at Killer, who scowled but removed his hands from Dust's mouth.

"Alright," Dust sighed. "You guys win. I'll stop." 

Killer turned to give Cross a high five, while Horror grinned triumphantly. 

"...he said," Dust whispered, smirking slyly. The others froze. Then Killer shrieked with dismay and they attacked as one. 

"Kidding! I was kidding!" Dust screeched as he tried- and failed- to escape. "I'll stop, seriously! I- ow! Guys, come on!" 

Nightmare shook his head and left, Dust's howls for mercy echoing in his nonexistent ears. They could sort out their own quarrels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not dead! Just struggling with writer's block and lack of inspiriation/motivation...
> 
> Anyways, if you enjoyed this chapter, kudos or even a comment would be greatly appreciated, so that I know people are actually enjoying my random blurbs ^^ thank you for reading and habe a lovely day/night!


	6. The Power of Imagination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ink and Error are always fighting...although sometimes their methods are a little unexpected.

_"I'll never let you destroy this world, Error!!!" Ink shouted with tears in his eyes. He had never seen so much destruction before! The artist who fancied himself a protector- The Protector- was horrified! _

_Error, the source of all the damage, laughed at Ink's misery. The squid was so upset he was nearly blind with tears, and he never saw the attack coming. The destroyer snared the sobbing artist in a web of strings and dangled him helplessly from a roof. _

_**"Not so cocky now, huh?" **Error sneered. **"I'm going to destroy this world, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."**_

_"Please, don't!" Ink blubbered. "I'll do anything! Please, I'll-"_

"Well, first of all, fuck you, because I definitely do not sound like that."

Error yelped and jumped to his feet, dropping his puppets on the floor of the anti-void. Ink stood behind him, brush in hand and slightly more paint-spattered than usual. 

**"Wha- what the hell, Ink?!"** Error yelled. His embarrassment at being caught playing quickly turned to rage, and he advanced on Ink with clenched fists. **"This is my space! Why the fuck are you sneaking up on me?!" **

Ink ignored his shouting and plopped himself down on the floor, letting Broomy fall to the side. He picked up the Ink puppet and studied it curiously. **"Put that down!"** Error shouted, starting to reach for his strings. 

"Here's how it would actually go," Ink said, as though he wasn't in very real danger of being attacked by the angry glitch. He picked up the Error puppet as well.  
_  
"Error!" Ink snarled, bursting out of the strings confining him. "You'll pay for that!" He charged at the destroyer and brought the brush back for a powerful blow. Error summoned a blaster, but Ink batted it aside as though it was nothing. He brought the brush crashing down on Error's head and-_

**"Give me those,"** Error hissed, snatching the puppets from Ink's hands. He ignored the hurt expression on the artist's face.  
_  
Error easily dodged the attack. **"Is that all you've got?"** he scoffed. He grabbed the brush with his strings and sent the brush through a portal, well out of Ink's reach. **"You'll have to do better than that!" **he said with a laugh. The destroyer sent a barrage of glitchy black bones at the artist. There was no possible way he would be able to avoid them all-_

"- but then a DRAGON appeared!" 

**"What the fuck?! Ink, no!" **

"Ugh, fine. Spoilsport."

**"Hey-! Dammit, give those back!"**

"Nope!"  
_  
With a flourish, Ink summoned Broomy back to his hand. Error, the poor, foolish glitch, had forgotten that, as a magic weapon, the talented artist could call his brush from anywhere. He splashed paint on the ground and vanished through it, reappearing right behind Error. "Hey, glitchy, how's the weather up there?" he asked with a grin as he quickly painted a stormcloud that went to hover over the destroyer's head-_

**"You can't actually do that,"** Error interupted, glaring at Ink.** "I've seen the sort of stuff you can make."**

Ink grinned. "Well, yeah, but who says other-me can't do it? Besides, I have the puppets~" He waved the Ink puppet back and forth cheekily. Error snatched both puppets with his string and stuck out his tongues when Ink pouted.  
_  
Error summoned a blaster and destroyed the pathetic wispy excuse for a cloud in a beam of light. **"I'm getting bored," **he drawled, yawning.** "If you can't make this any more interesting then I'll just kill you now, and then after that I'll finish off this world-**_

Ink snatched the puppet of himself from Error's protesting grasp.  
_  
"You can try!" Ink said cheerfully. "Might be a little tricky if you can't catch me though~" With that taunt, the artist vanished through another painted portal. He appeared above Error and dumped paint over his head before landing nimbly beside the now-colorful glitch. "Heh, you look like-"_

_**"Shut the fuck up!"** Error snapped, whirling around and catching Ink in his strings. He flicked his hand and the artist was yanked to the side and slammed into a wall. Error summoned a pair of blasters over his shoulder and started walking towards the dazed skeleton-_

"...and then… a dragon…."

**"You know what? Fine. There's a fucking dragon. But it's mine!"**

"What? No, it was my idea!" 

**"Dragons aren't protectors! They're destroyers! They eat people, they burn houses-"**

"They collect gold and treasure and stuff and protect it-! I want the dragon, you can have a unicorn though~" 

**"Why the hell would I want a unicorn!?"**

"Uh, they stab people? And I dunno, shoot magical death lasers from their horns?" 

**"...fine." **

_A beautiful rainbow-colored dragon with feathery wings swooped down and sliced apart the strings holding Ink. It reared up on its hind legs and roared angrily at Error. Ink climbed on its back and together they charged. The dragon's maw gaped open, fire glowing in its mouth as it prepared to attack- _

_Suddenly a blue unicorn crashed into the dragon, piercing the colorful flesh with its jet-black horn. It knocked the dragon onto its side and reared up, horn glowing red as it powered up an ultra death laser. The dragon was on its back, helpless to avoid the attack or fight back! The unicorn- _

"Dude, your unicorn is OP." 

**"Don't interupt! It's about to kill your dragon!" **

"Oh, as if! My dragon is way stronger than your unicorn!" 

**"Ha, we'll see about that!"**  
_  
Ink had leapt to the side when the dragon fell. He narrowed his eyes at the unicorn and quickly jumped onto its back, turning its head away just as it fired. The redirected ultra death laser of doom sped towards Error, standing on the sidelines. The destroyer couldn't possibly avoid the attack and was incinerated instantly-_

_\- except that Error wasn't an idiot and opened a portal just before the blast hit him. He appeared behind Ink and grabbed the squid in his strings-_

"Ooh, squid! That's a good idea!"

**"Wait, what? Ink, what are you doing-" **

_Ink suddenly transformed into a giant squid! He grabbed Error in his tentacles and flung him across the entire town-_

**"What the fuck?! Moron, you can't shapeshift!" **

"Says you~"  
_  
The unicorn, which Ink had forgotten all about, zapped off all of his tentacles with its death laser-_

_-and the dragon, which the unicorn had forgotten all about, promptly ate the unicorn-_

_\- and the unicorn didn't die because it's awesome and it tore the dragon apart from the inside with its giant horn. On the other side of town, Error suddenly grew twenty feet taller and also grew giant black and red wings and flew towards Ink with his claws outstretched-_

"That actually sounds really cool! Hang on, where's my sketchbook-"

**"Idiot, no drawing right now! I'm trying to kill you!"**

"Okay, fine! I guess it can wait a little bit."  
_  
Ink's tentacles magically grew back, along with like, ten extra ones, and he reached out and batted Error out of the air. He shot a jet of black, acidic ink at the destroyer, which bubbled and started eating away at his wings- _

**"-And then the unicorn skewered Ink and blasted him into tiny pieces and Error won, the end."**

"What? Nooooo!"

**"Shut up, they're my puppets!"**

"Hm, true...can we do another one? I'll definitely win this time!"

**"...sure, why not? I get the dragon this time, though!" **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I wasn't able to reply to any comments last time- I simply did not have the time, for a lot of complicated reasons- but I read and appreciated every single one! Thank you all so much, it was really nice to hear your thoughts on my writing. That being said, I hope you enjoyed this one as well! Have a lovely day ^^


	7. [Deathberry] I'll See You Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reaper isn't supposed to reveal himself to mortals. And he _especially_ isn't supposed to fall in love with one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: temporary character death

There are several kinds of death within the Multiverse. 

There is the first, most common kind, when a soul's time is up and the Reaper appears to collect them. 

Then there is the death that comes from the resets. Specifically, the Genocides. The Reaper is called to each soul, over and over, but when he tries to reap them, he cannot. Although their body is gone, a power stronger than himself keeps the souls trapped in an endless loop of life and death and life again. 

The third kind of death is not truly _death_ at all. Old, scarred souls, weary of being pieced back together after shattering over and over beneath a smiling child's knife, simply give up. When time is rewound and life beckons to them yet again, they do not answer and they fade away. The Reaper knows not what happens to them, for wherever they pass to, it is not within his realm or that of any other god he knows of. 

He has long learned to distinguish the first kind from the other two, and he ignores the others' desperate cries for him to come, to collect them, so that their suffering might finally be over.

He cannot help them, and so he stays away. 

Usually. 

Somehow, Death finds himself drawn to a particular world. Underswap, number three hundred and eighty-something, he doesn't remember exactly. What? There's thousands of worlds, how is anyone supposed to remember them all?

Amyway, this particular world calls to him with a siren's melancholic song. There is a soul here that is almost deafening in its cries. Although he knows he cannot help it, he cannot simply ignore the call like so many others. He has tried a hundred times to reap souls like this one and always failed, but maybe, just maybe, the hundred and first time would be different. 

It wasn't. Just like every other time he'd tried, he couldn't take the tortured soul to its well-earned rest. But as he prepared to leave, he hesitated.

Something was missing.

He'd seen a thousand worlds like this one, and to him they were all the same. Each soul had its own call, its own particular sound, but across worlds, it was all the same. The same anguished song of thousands of poor souls, repeated over and over.

But..in this world...there was a single soft note missing from the hellish melody he'd grown to know so well. What was it, _who_ was it, the single soul that did not crave release from this never-ending cycle of reset and sorrow and death and reset again? 

He didn't know, but he was determined to find out. It had been so long since the god had found anything new in his work, and so, as small a thing as it seemed, he was fascinated. 

For he knew that even though the body, the mind, the memories, while they do not wish to die, a soul is something _more._ It knows when its time has come, and it knows what comes next and embraces it. And although the mind and the body may not know something is horribly, horribly wrong with the world, the soul _does_, and it tries to make it right. Unfortunately, pitted against the awful power of reset, a single soul can only do so much. 

For a world like this one… three thousand, four hundred and ninety-one genocides, and the human wasn't stopping anytime soon. For a soul to be _completely silent_ to the Reaper's senses… well, it was unusual, to say the least. 

So he hung around. He searched out every monster, every single Froggit and Ice Cap and Tsundereplane that lived in the Underground, and he didn't find it. For a brief time he wondered if it was the human, but their soulcall was one of the loudest. The child should be dead, killed in ten thousand different ways over and over. It wasn't Asgore. His poor, gentle soul was so weak, so tired… surely, it would soon fade away to nothing at all and some other soul would be dragged to this hell to take its place. For you couldn't have an Underground without an Asgore, could you? 

It wasn't Napstaton, it wasn't Queen Toriel, it wasn't Alphys or Undyne. It certainly wasn't Papyrus, whose desperate soul had been the one to draw him here in the first place. 

In the end, it was Papyrus who threw him off. His soulcall was so loud, so insistent, that he could hardly hear Sans beside him. 

Until he realized...he couldn't hear Sans at all. 

The Magnificent Sans, dubbed Blueberry or simply Blue by those who knew of the Multiverse and its intricacies. Details changed from world to world, but almost always, he was the brightest spot in the entire Underground, cold and damp and hopeless as it was. Always ready to help another, always ready to try his best, always, always, so pure and positive and innocent. 

Always ready to _believe_ in someone who had cut him down, time after time after time, always ready to meet them with a wide, confident grin, and a steadfast belief that everyone can be a good person, if they only try.

Reaper watched this one for a while, trying to understand why his soul was silent. What made him different? He seemed like every other Swap Sans there was, only perhaps just a tiny smidge less upbeat than most.

But something had to make him different. There had to be a reason Reaper couldn't hear his soul.

He wasn't supposed to reveal himself to mortals. It was one of the Big Rules. But Reaper made it a point to break at least one of those every week at least, and besides, it wasn't like the kid would remember. In this world Papyrus was the one who remembered across resets. He was the one who waited in the judgement hall while his brother lay scattered in the snow. Once the human came and reset again, it would be like Reaper was never even here at all. 

The little skeleton was seated at the base of a snow-covered pine when he sensed someone approaching. He was obviously surprised as he leapt to his feet, but he quickly hid his confusion behind a wide, cheerful grin.

"Greetings, friend! I don't think I've seen you around before," he said brightly, offering his hand. 

Reaper didn't take it. His touch killed, and there was no reason to hasten the poor soul's doom. "I'm new in town," he said softly. Although they were both Sanses, technically, they really didn't sound alike at all. Even so, he kept his voice low to disguise it as much as possible. As long as Reaper kept his hood up the kid would never know. 

_Although, maybe kid is the wrong word for him,_ Reaper mused as he looked the other over. While this Sans was one of the smallest he'd seen so far, his baby blue eyes spoke of a shrewd intelligence far greater than one might expect. He was strong too, although Reaper hadn't seen him fight at his full power. He always let the human child strike him down first. _No_, Reaper decided,_ he's no kid._

"I'm afraid you've chosen rather an unfortunate time to be here," Sans said when it became evident Reaper wouldn't shake his hand. "There's a human around. They're quite dangerous, I regret to inform you. If I were you, I'd find somewhere safe to stay until they've passed by." He glanced down the path in the direction of the Ruins. He didn't seem nervous, surprisingly, but he was certainly rather tense when he mentioned the human. Reaper wasn't worried. The child wasn't due for another hour at least, and it wasn't like they would be able to hurt him anyways. 

"Is that so?" Reaper asked, tilting his head to the side. "What about you? Shouldn't you leave as well? This seems to be right in their path." 

"It is," Sans answered, bright smile never faltering. "Never fear, I shall stop them! Although the tales I've heard are worrisome, they are no match for the Magnificent Sans! Mweh heh heh!"

Reaper felt a twinge of pity for the poor clueless bastard. In a short while he would be choking on his own blood, those dazzling blue eyelights snuffed out as his killer walked past him in search of new victims. 

"Really?" he murmured. "All alone? You're much braver than I am, if you're going to try and stop them." 

Sans puffed out his chest, rising ever so slightly on the balls of his feet to claim just a few centimeters more of height. " If anyone can stop them, it will be me!" he said confidently. "The Magnificent Sans never backs down from a challenge!"

He glanced back down the path and deflated slightly. "You really should leave, though," he advised. "There may be a fight, and I would hate for anyone to get caught in the crossfire." 

Reaper decided to back down for now. He hadn't figured out why Sans's soulcall wasn't there, but he could try a new approach after the next reset. "Alright," he said agreeably. "I appreciate the concern. Good luck."

"Thank you," Sans said, beaming. "Stay safe," 

Reaper turned and walked into the trees. The moment his back was turned, confusion once again fell over Sans's features as he watched the hooded stranger disappear. 

Reaper didn't wait for the human to leave the ruins before he visited Sans next. The little skeleton had just finished a sparring session with Alphys <s>their last one together</s> and when he turned the corner from her house, Reaper was there. 

"O-oh! Hello!" Sans chirped, visibly startled as he nearly crashed into the taller. "Sorry, I didn't...see you...there…" He trailed off as he looked up and his blue lights met dark, empty sockets.

"No, no, it's my fault," Reaper said smoothly as he stepped back. "My apologies. I didn't think anyone was around and thought perhaps I could take a quick nap."

"That sounds like something Papy would say," Sans said. His usual happy grin finally found its way onto his face again, but something was off. His eyelights kept flicking from Reaper's hidden face to his clothing, his hands, his feet trailing just barely off the floor. 

"...I feel like we've met before," Sans mused, and suddenly his gaze was keen and cunning, full of guile. "Perhaps...in Snowdin? Where do you live, friend?" 

Reaper's non-existent heart stopped. He shouldn't- there was no way he could remember. It was impossible. And yet, as he stared into that calculating gaze, he _knew_. Sans remembered him. Sans remembered the Resets. He could think of only a handful of worlds where both brothers remembered, but apparently, this was one of them.

Well, the damage was done. He might as well keep going.

"Yes, I do believe we have," Reaper said quietly. "It was...oh, tomorrow, if I remember correctly. Right before the human...well, I'm sure you know."

Blue's eternal smile faltered. The next moment it was back and his eyes flashed with cold steel. "Oh, I know. What I don't know, though, is how _you_ do," he said lowly.

"Does your brother know you remember?" Reaper asked, and Sans flinched. "I thought so… shame. I would have liked to talk to him, but it might be hard to explain all...this, to him as well." 

Sans hesitated, torn between taking the obvious bait or pressing harder for the information he himself wanted. Finally he decided to bite. "What do you mean?" he asked. 

Reaper smiled darkly. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, stepping closer to the little skeleton. His voice was soft, gentle, even kind, yet held the promise of untold, unimaginable, _terrible_ power. 

"I am that which all things fear. I am the inevitable, I am the dark. I am what always was and what always will be. I am your future, your past. You have felt my embrace many times, and yet you have never seen my face." The air darkened around them and the feathered shadow of two dark wings spread out across the floor behind him, stretching farther and farther until the entire room seemed shrouded in night.

"I am Death," he murmered, his voice echoing with a thousand rumbling whispers. His voice was pain, suffering, a child crying out for a mother who won't wake up, an old woman's rattling breath as she lays dying in a dark room, a soldier's final scream as shrapnel tears his body to pieces. His voice was a thousand terrible tragedies formed into words, unnatural and horrible and yet somehow _familiar. _

Sans shuddered and stepped back, but to his credit, his voice didn't waver when next he spoke. He didn't doubt the stranger's claim. How could he, after that? "Death," he repeated, the word sounding small and unfamiliar on his tongue. "So you… you're here to…" he stumbled over his words for a minute before taking a deep breath and starting over. "Why now?" he asked. "Why have I never seen you until now? I've died so many times. My brother has too. I've never seen it, but i know he does. Why wait until _now_ to appear?"

Reaper tilted his head to the side. "I was summoned. Over and over. I heard all these poor souls calling out for me. Even now, while their bodies breathe, the souls still cry for me to come and take them away."

He knew what the next question was before Sans even knew to ask it. "I haven't come to reap you," he said as the smaller started to speak. "I can't. Whatever power the human has that allows them to reset, it also stops me from reaping those whose time has come. I can see the souls, I can touch them, but I cannot take them no matter what I do." 

"Then why come?" Sans asked. His voice was suddenly cold and hard. "Why would you come here, why talk to me? Why would you give me hope that finally, _finally_ things were starting to change? If you can't do anything about it, then why would you c-come?" His voice broke on the last word and he buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook with a silent sob.

Reaper didn't know what to do. The last thing he had expected was for Sans to break down in front of him. "I...I'm sorry," he managed finally. "I didn't think that…" He trailed off. What could he possibly say that would make this better?

Sans slumped against the wall and slid downwards until he was sitting. His face was still hidden. After a few minutes of awful, awful silence, Reaper sat down next to him. He had made a mistake, and while he couldn't erase it, he had to try and fix it at the very least. 

"I don't usually come to worlds like this one," he admitted quietly. "Its easier to stay away. But there's a soul here… it's very loud. Even though I know I can't do anything for it, I felt like I had to try. So I came."

He risked a glance at Sans. The other skeleton had let his hands fall and was watching Reaper warily.

"I wasn't going to stick around," he continued. "But something was…off. I've seen hundreds of worlds just like this one, and they all sound exactly the same. This one is different, though. It took me a while to figure out what it was, exactly, but finally I did. It's you."

"...me?" Sans asked doubtfully. His eyelights were quivering slightly, and his hands trembled, but for the most part he had regained his composure. The crack in his shell was quickly being smoothed over as though it had never broken open in the first place. 

"Yes, you," Reaper said. "I can't hear your soul calling me. That's very unusual for a world like this. Very, _very_ unusual. So unusual, in fact, that it's _never_ happened before."

Suddenly Sans understood. "That's why you spoke to me last time," he said. "You want to know why I'm different." 

Reaper nodded. Sans's eyes sparkled with excitement, but a moment later they dimmed again. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "I don't know why that might be."

"I never expected you to know," Reaper said. He felt a twinge of amusement at the little skeleton's expression. Sans didn't know whether or not to be offended by Reaper's response. "I thought that if I talked to you maybe I could figure it out. It's not like there's anywhere else I have to be, anyways," he said with a shrug. Well, that wasn't strictly true. He had a lot of places he was supposed to be, but he was always behind in his work anyways. A few days here wouldn't make that much of a difference. 

"If you want to come and talk to me between resets, I don't mind," Blue said. "To be honest, I'm getting bored. Everything happens exactly the same way at exactly the same time. It would be nice to have someone new to talk to."

"But for now," he said as he stood up, "I need to get back to Snowdin. Papy will be expecting me soon."

"Alright," Reaper said agreeably. He stood as well. "I suppose I'll see you around, then." 

The next time they met was while Sans recalibrated his puzzles. Reaper asked questions and Sans answered while he worked. When Reaper ran out of questions, Sans happily filled the silence with his own chatter about nothing in particular.

After that, it was at the brothers' house while Papyrus was at his sentry station. Sans insisted on serving lunch for the god while they talked. His cooking was surprisingly good, especially for a Swap. 

The time after that, they met in the star-watching room. They didn't talk so much- at this point, Reaper didn't know what else to ask- but instead just walked around and enjoyed the peace and each other's company.

They continued to meet up, time and time again, reset after reset. Each time, Reaper came less because of his curiosity and more because he simply wanted to see the bright, happy little skeleton he'd grown to admire so much. 

It wasn't long before Sans ran out of things to say. Although he could make almost anything sound interesting, his life story was still rather short, and thanks to the human it was now at a complete standstill. So Reaper told him about the realm of the gods, and then about all the other worlds that made up the multiverse. Sans listened with wide, awestruck eyes as Reaper described all the amazing, wonderful things he'd seen throughout his existence. He never doubted anything Reaper said, which the god was grateful for. And he never seemed envious or sad that he would never have a chance to see these things for himself. 

Once, Reaper asked him about it. Why was he so content merely to hear about other, beautiful worlds? Anyone else would have asked for Reaper to take them there, if for no other reason than to escape this one. 

Sans only smiled sadly. "In a place like this, you learn to be glad for what you have. I never could have even imagined something like the places you tell me about, but now I can see them every time I close my eyes. It's more than I would ever have thought to ask from you. How could I ask you for even more?"

And before Reaper could respond, he added, "and anyways, I could never leave Papy here on his own. I know he has a really hard time. He thinks that I don't know what's going on, and he's glad for that, so I let him believe it. But if I left, even for a little bit, he would know something's up." 

Reaper didn't really know how to argue with that. He wasn't even sure why he wanted to argue in the first place. Yeah, Sans's life sucked, but he was no worse off than hundreds of other Sanses and Papyri, and Reaper certainly hadn't cared all that much about any of them. 

Sans was quick to change the subject, and Reaper didn't bring it up again.

How long had Reaper been here?

He...he didn't remember. 

It had been a while. More than a couple days. Weeks at the very least, but it was almost certainly closer to months. He'd left a few times, when the tugging of other souls in other worlds grew too loud to endure, but he always came back. Hiis brother was worried, but Reaper had seen him the last time he left and did his best to reassure him. He was just trying to figure something out. That was all. As soon as he was done, he'd get back to working properly. Promise. 

He was beginning to wonder if he would ever keep that promise. 

There was something about the little Swap that made it so hard for Reaper to tear himself away even for a little while. He was so energetic and cheerful and hopeful, despite never-ending nightmare he was trapped in. He was a beacon of light, and Reaper was the poor stupid moth who couldn't help but to come closer. 

_This world doesn't deserve him_, Reaper thought fondly, gazing down at the little skeleton curled into his side. They had to be careful with cuddling, of course, but as long as Reaper wore long sleeves and gloves, they would be fine. And even if there was an accident...well, Sans would come back quickly enough. 

"..per..?" 

He could remember how nervous Sans was when he first asked about "touching" Reaper. There were no hugs in the time loop, he explained quickly, and he was starting to feel a little starved for physical contact. 

"Reaper?" 

Of course, Reaper couldn't say no once Sans explained. It was one of their favorite things to do now. Curled up together, as close as they possibly could be without risking actual bone-on-bone contact.

"Reaper!" 

The god jumped and nearly sent Sans tumbling into the snow. "Ah-! Wha- what's going on? What?"

Sans chuckled. "You zoned out," he explained. "I've been trying to get your attention for ten minutes now." 

"Oh…" Reaper laughed sheepishly. "Sorry. I was just thinking. What did you want to say?" 

To the god' s surprise, Sans blushed. The faint dusting of blue was barely noticeable, but Reaper had spent enough time with him that he could tell. "Oh, I was just- that is, I was wondering- I was wondering if, um, if m-maybe-" 

Reaper frowned. Sans never stumbled and stuttered like this. He always spoke with perfect clarity and the admirable confidence of knowing exactly what he was going to say. "Is something wrong?" he asked, trilling softly with concern. 

Sans's blush darkened noticeably. He shook his head, but he couldn't seem to look Reaper in the eyes. His hands picked nervously at the blanket wrapped around them. 

"Sans-" Reaper began to say, but Sans suddenly leaned up and kissed him, cutting him off.

A gloved hand cupped the god's cheek, gentle fingers lightly trailing along the bone. Caught off guard, by the time Reaper raised his own hand to the smaller's face Sans was already turning to dust. He pulled away with a sad, sad smile. Tears sparkled in his crumbling sockets and he opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a puff of dust. 

In another moment he was gone. Dust swirled in the air for a moment longer before settling on the ground, on the blanket, on Reaper's cloak and face and hands. He trailed his fingers through the dust, then touched them to his mouth as though trying to return the gentle kiss. 

He sat there for a long time. 

Sans seemed surprised to see Reaper the next reset. 

"I'm sorry," were the first words out of his mouth. 

"Why?" asked the god. His voice was soft and gentle. Sans had no answer, and he ran to Reaper and buried his face in the taller's cloak. 

They didn't speak much that time. They were both afraid of saying the wrong thing and somehow breaking the fragile love that had formed with the unexpected kiss. 

_No,_ Reaper realized._ That isn't right. I've loved him for a long time. I just didn't realize it until now. _

Every reset ended with a kiss, for Sans, and a pile of dust, for Reaper. Although it always ended the same way, both of them rejoiced in the few precious seconds of contact before Sans fell apart. Time after time, Reaper cursed the deadly magic that ran through his bones, and yet time after time, he was grateful for it. If Sans had to die, at least he could die secure within the arms of someone he loved. 

Once, Sans had been afraid to break the cycle. Breaking the cycle would alert Papy to the fact that he knew, and he was afraid of what could happen then. Sans's supposed ignorance was the only thing keeping Papyrus sane. If his little bro was happy, even for a little bit, everything would be okay. 

Now, though, Sans had a new priority.

Every reset, he snuck away more and more often. Sparring with Alphys, recalibrating his puzzles, working on his sentry station... none of that really mattered anymore. He wanted to be with Reaper, tucked under his arm in the star-watching room and talking about nothing in particular for hours on end. The first time he skipped his fight with the human, they went berserk. They tore through the underground with before-unseen speed and fury. 

By the time they reached the star-watching room, though, he was only another pile of dust on the floor. 

Reaper knew they couldn't go on like this forever. _Just once more,_ he would say to himself as the dust settled on his robes, mouth still tingling. _One more time, and then I need to leave. _

It was a promise he broke, every time. 

Asgore would be furious. Life would be so worried. His poor brother…He couldn't remember the last time they'd spoken. 

But somehow, they all seemed so far away when he was holding Sans. The little skeleton was so small sometimes. Especially when he cried, which he did, occasionally. He poured out his soul to Reaper, who could only listen and cry with him.

"You know this can never work," Reaper said softly. Sans sat in his lap, their gloved hands intertwined. 

"I know," came the answer, equally soft. 

"Your brother is becoming suspicious...each reset he spends more and more time trying to find out where you go. I won't be surprised if soon he abandons the judgement hall entirely."

"Papy hadn't even tried to ask me directly," Sans sighed. Reaper stroked his skull in a comforting gesture.

"The other gods will come looking for me," he continued soberly. "I've never been particularly fond of my work, they know this, but I've never neglected it for this long. They'll be furious when they learn about you…" 

Well, some of them would be. Most wouldn't be mad, so much as viciously curious. Rumours would fly, the gossips would have a field day. It would be a scandal the likes of which had never before been seen in the realm of the gods. The Elder Death, with a mortal! And in such a world, too!

"Which one of us are you trying to convince?" Sans asked. His fingers plucked idly at the hem of Reaper's robes, but his eyes, his cunning, clever, beautiful blue eyes met the lightless sockets of his god.

"...myself, I suppose," Reaper admitted with a bitter laugh. "But it's so hard to even think about...I don't want to leave you, my little starlight."

"I know," said Sans, and this time he was smiling, although his eyes were wet. Reaper couldn't help himself and leaned in to kiss the tears away. 

When the dust settled, the only tears left were Reaper's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I've really tried writing angst, and it's also the first time I've tried writing Reaper. And it's _also_ a bit different from my usual writing style... 
> 
> Happy (belated) Thanksgiving, to those of you who are in the US! I hope you enjoyed reading, and have a wonderful day ^^


	8. [Insomnia] In Which Dream Needs More Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreamy has a secret~

Darkness gripped his chest, squeezing like a vice. Anguished voices screamed, their cries echoing through his mind-

Dream gasped and sat up, hand flying to his chest. Adrenaline was coursing through him and he looked wildly around the dark room, half-expecting some demon to leap at him from the shadows. It took him a moment to calm down and remember where he was. Blue's house. More specifically? The couch. 

He checked his phone and groaned. It was 4:30 in the morning, for crying out loud! It was way too early to be awake, and to top it off he'd barely gotten any sleep because… well, because reasons, that's why. 

But he had a job to do, no matter how exhausted he felt. And so with great reluctance, Dream rolled off Blue's couch and headed to the kitchen to see if there was any leftover coffee. Saving the world, again, could wait five minutes. 

Dream pouted at the empty coffee pot as if that would somehow magically refill it. He was trying to decide if he had time to make a fresh pot when heard the clicking of bony feet on the tile behind him. He knew who it was instantly, of course. The footsteps were far too brisk to be Stretch, and it wasn't like the Papyrus would be up this early anyway.

"Blue, did you dump out the coffee?" Dream asked without turning around, a hint of a whine in his voice. "I needed that!"

"Oh stop whining," Blue said cheerfully. "I picked up some of that cold brew stuff, remember? It's in the fridge. Since you're up so early, I assume Nightmare is up to his usual tricks?" 

Dream didn't bother answering and made a beeline for the fridge. Sure enough, one of the lower drawers was full of bottled coffee.

"Oh thank the stars," Dream groaned as he grabbed one and popped the cap off. "Or thank Blue, I don't care. I'll even thank Nightmare as long as I have some caffeine in my system." 

Blue leaned around him and shut the fridge with a click. He chuckled softly and said, "You're very welcome, friend. We should probably get going though, shouldn't we?" he asked. 

"Yeah," Dream sighed, opening a portal with a wave of his hand. Oh wait, should he get dressed? Probably. Although, it could be funny if Dream showed up in nothing but a tank top and fuzzy cat-print pajama pants. Heh, maybe Nightmare would be so confused he'd call off the fight and go home. 

Dream decided against that plan of attack though; the chance of success was very low, and the chance of embarrassment and consecutive defeat was very, very high. Blue waited in the kitchen with the softly humming portal while Dream got dressed. The guardian wasted ten minutes looking for his staff before he remembered that he could summon it at will. He decided to blame his mental lapse on the caffeine not having kicked in yet. 

He finally returned to the kitchen with his cape trailing behind him and crown slightly askew. "Come on," he grunted, dragging Blue into the portal.

The first thing Dream noticed upon stepping into the world was the blue strings crisscrossing through the air, wrapped around trees and tangled on buildings. Like the web of a spider… or a very unpredictable, angry skeleton. 

"Oh great, Error's here as well," Blue muttered beside him. Dream kept his expression carefully neutral. Error's presence was unexpected and annoying, although not for the same reasons Blue found it annoying. Well, it had better not be for the same reason, or Dream was going to have a problem with his friend. 

It didn't take long to find the nightmares; they just followed the screams. The criminally insane skeletons were running around, committing atrocities like murder, arson, petty theft, and destruction of snowbunnies. Nightmare himself was leaning against the shop door, munching on something warm and cinnamon-y while he basked in negative energy. 

He greeted Dream with an overly cheerful wave. "Good morning, brother," he said, grinning. "I'll admit I'm surprised; I didn't expect you to be up so early."

"Good morning to you, too!" Dream said with an overly sweet smile. He nocked an arrow as he said, "Oh dear, are you sure you should be eating that?" with a nod at the cinnabunny his brother was holding. "Too much sugar is bad for you! It's so sweet, you know."

A flick of the wrist, a _thrum_ through the air, and the arrow slammed into the wall next to Nightmare's head with the half-eaten treat neatly skewered on the tip. 

"That wasn't very nice." The injured tone of Nightmare's voice didn't match at all with the cold sneer on his face, or the lashing tentacles that curled behind him, poised to strike. 

"Aw, is someone grumpy because he didn't get his brekkie? Well guess what, neither did I. So, suck it up and quit whining," Dream retorted. He then yelped and ducked as a tentacle swiped angrily at his head 

Dream's bow shimmered and morphed into a staff, which he used to bat away two more tentacles. A third lashed out at his legs and he flung himself sideways. He scrambled to his feet and suddenly his staff was a bow again, letting him fire off three arrows in quick succession. 

Nightmare dodged two arrows and caught the third, snapping it in half. He lunged, claws outstretched. Dream stepped forward to meet him, staff at the ready-

Suddenly something looped around Dream's leg and _yanked_. He let out a startled shout as he was pulled over and dragged through the snow. Flailing like a fish to escape, he twisted around and grabbed at whatever was wrapped around his leg. He caught a glimpse of blue string through the flying snow obscuring his vision and-

"Dammit, Error!" he yelled. A low chuckle, echoing through the streets, was the only answer.

The world twisted and suddenly Dream was hanging upside down, wrapped head to toe in blue strings. Despite the apparent danger of his position, he relaxed, content to swing back and forth while he watched his brother pitch a fit. 

"Error, what are you doing?" Nightmare hissed. "I told you to keep an eye on the path to Waterfall, so that stupid fish can't come charging in and making a mess of things. I didn't tell you to interfere with my brother!" 

**"Calm down,"** Error sneered. He sat on the roof of the Snowed Inn, legs dangling over the edge.** "I just want a word with him, that's all." **

Nightmare scoffed. "I don't see what you could possibly want to say to him. Why don't you go play with the artist? Or even the Blueberry. I honestly don't care what you do as long as you _aren't interfering with my fight!"_

**"Interfere? Who, me? Nah, you must be thinking of some other glitch,"** Error said cheerfully. **"See ya later, Nighty~"** he called down as he opened a portal beneath his swinging feet and hopped through. Nightmare let out a frustrated screech, which was promptly cut off by the portal closing behind Dream.

Dream hit the antivoid floor with an audible oof. He made an annoyed huff and glared at Error, although he had to wiggle around a bit to actually face the glitch. "You can untie me now," he said, wiggling his bound legs for emphasis. 

**"Nah, I think I like you like this,"** Error purred, crouching down beside the bound guardian. **"All wrapped up, a present just for me~"**

"You don't wrap your own presents, idiot," Dream grumbled, but he was blushing and so Error counted it as a win. 

The glitch stood up and released his magic, allowing the strings to fall away. He offered Dream his hand and helped the other skeleton to his feet. When Error tried to let go of Dream's hand, though, the guardian tightened his grip. 

"You aren't getting away that easily," he murmured, leaning in to plant a kiss on Error's cheek. He smiled when the dark skeleton lit up with a soft blue blush. For all his angry noise and bluster, Error was surprisingly easy to fluster.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Dream asked. "You don't usually kidnap me in the middle of a battle, so I'm guessing this is important, huh?"

To his surprise, Error's blush deepened. The glitch's fingers twitched, which usually meant he was annoyed and wanted to destroy something, but this time it seemed more like nervous fidgeting than a destructive impulse.

**"I-I, uh, I was wondering,"** Error began, but he broke off suddenly and looked away. **"...Actually, um, nevermind, it's...it's s-stupid,"** he muttered. 

Dream frowned. " Error, you literally dragged me away from Nightmare to say whatever "it" is. I sincerely doubt it's as stupid as you seem to think."

**"N-no,"** Error muttered, shaking his head slightly. **"It's j-just… nonsense. I'm just being d-dumb-" **

Dream scowled and flicked Error on the forehead, cutting him off. "None of that talk, remember?" he said. "You aren't dumb, and neither is whatever you want to say. I sincerely doubt it'll be stupider than anything Ink's said. Unless you want to run through Horrortale with steak strapped to your legs?"

**"It's not like that," **Error muttered, chuckling despite his obvious anxiety.** "I was wondering if… if we could stop hiding this. Us." **

Dream stared and Error quickly backpedaled. **"W-we don't have to!"** he blurted. **"It was j-just a thought, it doesn't matter-" **

"Ru, shut up," Dream ordered, kissing him. When he pulled away Error still looked nervous, but he'd calmed down quite a bit "It's okay," Dream reassured. "I would love to not have to hide our relationship anymore, but are you sure about this? There's a lot that could go wrong. Nightmare-"

**"Fuck Nightmare," **Error growled. **"He can't do anything to me. And if he tries to hurt you over this, I'll kill him. Actually, if he tries to hurt you at all, I'll kill him." **

"Aw, is that why you were with him today?" Dream cooed. "Instead of watching me get my coccyx kicked, you stepped in and snatched me out of danger at the last minute? How sweet of you~" 

**"Shut up,"** Error muttered, averting his gaze. **"I just didn't want to wait around until you were done fighting, that's all. You take fucking forever to clean up and heal yourself and fix the AU- which I still think is a waste of time, by the way,"** he added. 

Dream hid a smile. He saw right through the grumpy I-don't-give-a-fuck act. Error could switch moods without warning, being shy and affectionate one moment, and aggressive and distant the next. But Dream could sense his true emotions, and he knew that Error was just trying to figure out how to deal with all...this. 

"If you're really sure about this, then yes," Dream said slowly. "I think Blue will be happy for us, once he's done being pissed that I didn't tell him about it sooner." Dream was close to the Swap, and they usually told each other everything. Blue wouldn't be happy about the secret, but he would understand.

"Stretch is definitely going to have a fit," Dream mused, "he might try and throw me out of the house. Again. I wonder if Ink will let me stay with him for a week or two…? Oh, but I don't know how he'll react either…" 

**"Tch, idiot. If the ashtray throws you out, you'll come stay with me,"** Error said, nuzzling at Dream's skull.** "And anyway, I'll just kill him if he tries."**

"No you won't," Dream scolded as he leaned into Error's embrace. "Blue would be mad, and we would have to reset their world. It would be much easier to just sleep somewhere else for a while." 

Although, Dream mused silently, temporarily murdering Stretch might make Ink more inclined to accept Error and Dream's relationship… The chaotic artist was one of the Papyrus's least favorite people, second only to Error, and Stretch always gave him a hard time when he came to see Blue. 

Dream decided not to voice that thought aloud though; Error's violent tendencies did not need any encouragement. Instead, "What about Nightmare?" Dream asked again. "He thinks you're one of his. I'm pretty sure that dating me counts as treason in his eyes." 

Error sighed impatiently. **"I already told you, its fine. Yeah, he'll be pissed, but there's nothing he can do about it. I'm stronger than he is, and I can always destroy a few of the more negative worlds that he depends on. So, fuck him."**

"Don't fuck Nightmare, I doubt it would end well," a familiar voice suddenly interrupted. "Or actually, do! I'm curious as to how that would turn out, heh!" 

Dream and Error both yelped and jumped apart, whirling around with magic at the ready.

Ink grinned at them from his seat in a black gooey puddle. "Heh, I thought there was something weird going on," he said cheerfully. "Error's been a lot less destructive lately, y'know? And Dream, you're always sneaking off in the middle of the night, which I fully condone, but it's pretty weird for ya!"

He rested his chin in his hand as he continued. "I got to Dancetale a bit late, and Blue was freaking out! He said Error kidnapped Dream, and he made me come look for you. Nightmare was pretty pissed off too, heh. Guess he wasn't expecting that, huh?"

Error swore loudly and summoned a blaster. Before he could fire Dream grabbed his arm. The glitch started to complain, but Dream interrupted. 

"If anyone gets to kill him, it's me. I've put up with his bullshit longer," he said sternly. Having said that, he turned and bore down on Ink, who was either completely unaware of the danger he was in, or simply didn't care. 

"So, when's the wedding?" he asked cheerfully. "Ooh, can I be the flower girl? That's a thing, right?"

Dream crouched down in front of Ink. "If you say _anything_ about this to _anyone_, I will take Broomy and shove it up your pelvis and out your ribcage," he threatened. "And then I'll pull it out through your eyesocket and smash it to splinters."

Ink was unfazed by the threat. "Someone shove a stick up your ass?" he asked. "Or maybe something else~" he added with a cheeky wink at Error 

**"Dream, if you don't kill him, I will,"** Error snapped. His fingers were twitching dangerously. 

Ink glanced from one to the other and back again. "Wow, you guys are touchy. Heh, did I interrupt something?" he asked with a sly smirk. 

Error growled and took a step forward. Ink threw his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, I get it! I know when I'm not wanted. I'll let Blue know Dream's okay. Or, y'know, maybe a little _more_ than okay."

Dream lunged forward to try and grab Ink, but he was too slow and the artist vanished through his inky portal. "Dammit," Dream sighed. "Guess we don't have much choice now."

Error hugged Dream from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. **"It'll be fine,"** he said confidently. **"I'll kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Or you'll stop me from killing them and then they won't want to hurt you anymore, because you saved them from me. Win-win."**

Dream had a feeling it wouldn't be as easy as that, but he decided not to say so aloud. Instead he turned and pressed a kiss to Error's jaw. The glitch hummed happily and returned the gesture, then nuzzled the top of his skull. 

No matter what happened they would have each other, and nothing could change that. 

Not even a moody octopus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't originally going to post this, but my sister is making me, so here you go. This is my favorite ship, by the way.  
I'm a bit late, but happy holidays, everyone! And if you don't celebrate any holidays, then I hope you had/have a wonderful day, and I wish a great 2020 for you all!  
Thanks for reading!


	9. Who Let The Dog Out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moon is beautiful tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I have a dozen WIPs sitting around in my docs? Yes, yes I do. Did I write and edit this in one night instead of working on them? Yes, yes I did.

The moon was calling him. 

He could _hear_ her singing to him. Her call was a beautiful silvery humming, ethereal and filled with longing. He longed to run to her, bound through the stars and find her and nuzzle close and listen to her song. 

He wasn't sure how to get up there where she was, but he was determined to figure it out. And maybe do a little hunting on the way- he could smell the forest nearby, and it was sure to be full of little tasty things. 

He stood and nearly stumbled as the thing he was standing on swayed beneath him, the soft surface giving a little under his weight. He was more than a little alarmed by the movement and hastily leapt down, landing several feet away. He watched the thing carefully. The moment he'd stopped touching it, it had stopped moving.

He slowly approached it and sniffed, drawing in great huffing breaths. It smelled like _him_. Whatever this was, it was _his_. He stared at the dark fabric rippling like waves over the great hulking shape, and he could almost remember what it was called. It was…. 

The moon's song wafted over him again, scattering his thoughts as _longing_ welled up within his soul. It didn't matter what it was called. Even if it was strange, it was his and so it wasn't a threat. He had to follow the moon. 

He trotted over to the window and bumped his muzzle against the hard glass. He sniffed it, then lowered his head and _rammed_ into it. His horns easily shattered the glass and he leapt through the now-open space.

He fell much further than he expected, but he twisted through the air like a cat and landed safely on all four feet. He shook the broken glass out of his fur. The clinking, tinkling noise was pretty, like windchimes. He shook again, but he'd gotten all the glass out the first time and so there wasn't any pretty sounds this time. 

Oh well. He could make much lovelier sounds if he wanted. He pointed his head to the sky and howled, a low, mournful sound. The moon sang back and, encouraged, he howled again. 

He heard a click and artificial yellow light spilled out across the ground around him. He turned and saw a figure standing in a window, silhouetted against the light. He growled to let them know he was displeased by the intrusion. Why would they use that horrible yellow light, when the moon was right there? She was full of her own silver light and generously shared it with all the world below. 

Should he destroy the yellow light? The idea was pleasing, but while he deliberated the figure vanished from the window and he heard a voice shouting. Others quickly answered, and within moments several people were shouting loudly. He snarled at the noises, but the people either didn't hear him or didn't care. He huffed and took off towards the forest. He'd be much better off just leaving before they turned on more of those awful lights. 

He relaxed the instant he stepped beneath the trees. The moon's call was fainter here, but he could still hear her singing. He slunk through the deepest shadows and pounced on the moonbeams filtering through the trees. The moon laughed, enjoying his playful spirit, and he laughed with her, with an odd chuffing noise and a clack of his skeletal grin.

He took a deep breath. There were so many smells in the forest! He could smell the earth beneath his feet: burrowing insects and decaying wood and dead leaves and fungus, all melding to form a rich, pleasant scent. He could smell the dew on the leaves over his head, and he could smell the flowers that had closed up tight hours earlier. He could smell rain and thunder on the wind, although he knew it wouldn't come tonight. Most importantly, he could smell all the creatures of the forest and where they'd been.

He singled out the most powerful scent and went in search of it. He shoved his nose into a patch of grass and sniffed. A leaf tickled his nose and he sneezed, then shook himself. Then he sniffed at it again. He knew this scent. It was a little different than he remembered, but still familiar. Small, warm, soft. _Prey. _

He sat back on his haunches and howled again. This cry was different than before. The first time he had been singing to the moon. Now he was singing to his prey, warning them. _I'm coming for you. Run far, run fast. _

He put his head to the ground and trotted after the scent. It was fresh and easy to follow. The trail led him back towards the place with the noisy people and the ugly light, but as long as he could stay hidden within the trees it was fine. They wouldn't see him, and if they did he would bite them and make them leave him alone. 

He slowed as the scent grew warmer. His prey had passed here only moments ago. Now he must be careful, quiet. Step softly, don't rattle the trees. He was big, but despite his size he could glide silently over the ground with ease. 

He emerged from the trees and blinked, the moonlight almost blinding after the darkness of the forest. She crooned to him, _welcome back. _He chuffed softly in acknowledgement of her greeting, but he couldn't sing back to her. Not yet. Not without scaring his prey. 

He sniffed the trail again. This way. He took a step- 

Bones erupted from the ground in front of him. He yelped and tried to run the other way, but more slammed into place around him. _No way out. Trapped! _

The sound began as a low rumble in his chest, and rose to his through as a deep, chilling growl._ Someone was hunting him_. He didn't like that at all. He was the hunter, not them. 

"Cross, you're scaring him," said a voice. Soft, nervous. His head swiveled in its direction, eyes narrowed. 

"Yeah well, he's scaring _me,_" said another. 

Two? He crouched, inhaling. No, more than that. Four distinct scents, four people. Only two voices so far, and the magic of only one. But there were four of them there in the shadows.

He snarled a warning to the hunters he couldn't see. _Back off. _

A red light appeared in the darkness and he tensed as it came closer. 

_Stay where you are,_ he snarled. The light laughed, deep and humorless. 

"Calm down, buddy. We ain't yer enemies," the skeleton said as he stepped into view. He was familiar. His scent, his voice. The massive crack in his skull and the single red light in his socket. 

He _knew_ this monster. More than that, he liked him. He didn't have to remember it, he _knew. _

The growl died in his throat. He took a tentative step towards the skeleton. _Friend?_ he asked in a soft whine. _No fighting?_

The skeleton eyed him warily. "I dunno what yer saying there, bud," he said. "and I doubt ya understand me. But we don't wanna hurt ya."

He tilted his head to the side. The noises the skeleton were making sounded familiar, but he couldn't make sense of them. The meanings danced at the very edge of his mind, taunting him, but he simply couldn't quite understand them. He huffed in frustration. 

Two- no, three- figures appeared behind the first. They were all skeletons, but while the first three were white, the last one was black as shadow. He blended in seamlessly with the forest, and the only reason he could see him at all was because of his blue-green eyelight. 

He growled suspiciously, but as he took another deep sniff his wariness faded. He knew these monsters._ Friends. Safe. Pack. _

He blinked. _Pack. _

_Yes, my pack. Good. _

He felt much more confident now and his tail was wagging slowly as he stepped closer, although he couldn't quite reach them due to the bones in the way. The white skeletons took a few steps back as he approached and glanced nervously at the dark one. Several seconds passed. 

"It's all right," the dark one said finally. "He's not aggressive anymore. I think he's glad to see us." 

Like magic, the entire group relaxed. "I thought you said lycanthropy couldn't be spread to monsters, Night," the one in the white grumbled. 

The dark one- Night? He didn't know what it meant, but the sound was familiar, and it seemed _right_ for him- sighed and rubbed at his skull. "Well obviously, I was wrong. Evidently that world has a different kind of lycanthropy and monsters _can_ have it."

"Lucky no one else got bit," another skeleton muttered. He had empty sockets and dark streaks down his face. "One wolf is enough… though, he doesn't look much like a wolf if you ask me." 

He was getting bored of all these noises he couldn't understand. These monsters were his pack, weren't they? So why were they standing around? He poked his head through two of the bones caging him in and nudged the streak-eyed skeleton with his head. 

The skeleton jumped- obviously he hadn't been paying attention. But he quickly relaxed and hesitantly touched the massive skull. "Hey, Dusty," he said quietly. "You in there?" 

Dusty? That sounded familiar. He tilted his head slightly and chirped._ Dusty. Dust. That's me, isn't it? Dust? _

Dust chirped again and nuzzled against the skeleton's hand, asking for more pets. Streak-eyed chuckled and obliged, gently scratching between his horns. 

"Killer? What are you- oh. Hey, why do you get all the fun?" 

Dust glanced at the speaker. It was the one in the white, with the fluff around his neck. The one petting him- Killer, right? -grinned. "Well obviously, he likes me better," he said with a taunting lilt. 

The bones boxing him in vanished and Dust rumbled happily. He pulled away from Killer and walked over to inspect the other skeletons. The white fluffy one was eager to pet his skull, and ran his bony fingers through his fur with a fascinated expression. "He's so _soft!_" he exclaimed. 

The one with the cracked skull came over and touched his fur as well. "Yer right," he said, sounding surprised. 

Killer hastily followed and was petting him now too, all three of them happily stroking his skull and his fur. Dust purred at the attention, but turned his gaze to the last of the four. 

Night was watching him with an odd expression and Dust whined softly. He wanted Night to like him. He wanted him to be _proud _of him, to be _happy._ He wasn't sure why he felt like that, but he did. He butted his head against Night's chest with another, louder whine. The dark skeleton let out a surprised noise, and after a moment hesitant fingers stroked over his horns. 

Dust purred loudly. This was _right. _He had his pack with him, all of them together, and they were happy and they were focused on _him. _Suddenly, the moon and her call weren't so important anymore. 

Dust flopped down onto the ground, his wagging tail thumping against the dirt, and it didn't take long for the rest of his pack to join him. Killer and cracked-skull sat behind him and pet his neck and spine, while white-fluff actually layed down on top of him and ran his fingers through the longer, silky fur on his chest and shoulders. Night was the last to sit down, but the moment he did Dust's head was in his lap, seeking more pets. 

Cracked-skull was the first to break the silence. "Y'know, I almost prefer im like this," he said with a throaty chuckle. "I've never heard im so quiet."

"Shut up, Horror," white-fluff said. "Don't be mean while he can't even understand what you're saying. Wait until he changes back and _then_ be mean."

Dust perked up. Horror? That was cracked-skull! Now he only needed white-fluff's name. He felt a little bad for forgetting them, but he hadn't been able to help it. Hadn't he?

"...he will change back, right?" Killer said quietly. Even though Dust couldn't understand the words, he could tell from his tone that Killer was worried. He whined reassuringly and nuzzled the skeleton. _It will be okay_, he tried to communicate. 

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Night said. It sounded like he was trying to reassure Killer as well, but Dust could tell he was nervous. He could smell it. 

White-fluff laughed, but the sound wasn't happy. "Well, if he doesn't change back, then at least we have a new pet," he said. It was a poor attempt at a joke, and the others bristled. Horror's eye flashed brighter for a moment. _Threat._

"Cross, don't talk like that," Night said sternly, eye narrowed. "He'll change back once the sun rises. That's how it works." 

Dust felt a surge of joy at relearning the name of his last pack member, but the way Cross wilted and looked away from the group crushed his momentary happiness. He whined loudly and surged to his feet. The others all startled and scrambled away to avoid being crushed by his bulk. 

Dust advanced on Cross and butted against his chest affectionately, growling softly. _Don't be upset! I'm here! _

Cross laughed uncertainly and buried his hands and face in Dust's fur. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I, uh, I dunno how much of all that you understood, but I appreciate you trying to cheer me up. " 

Dust wagged his tail and nipped at Cross's jacket._ Yes! He's not sad anymore! Yay me!_

He butted Cross again, more firmly this time. The skeleton didn't seem to get the idea, so he gently shoved him to the ground and flopped down on his lap. Cross was clearly alarmed by this turn of events and struggled, but Dust was careful not to crush him and after a moment he relaxed. "You big oaf," Cross grumbled, but there was laughter in his eyes. "You're so _fluffy_," he added after a moment, sounding awestrucked. 

The other three came back and sat around him, petting him and talking in quiet voices as the night wore on and the moon's song slowly quieted. They seemed to be scared he would run away, but why would he do that? 

_My pack is with me. That's all I need. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Dust does in fact turn back into a skeleton by morning, and is very embarrassed when everyone tells him what a _good dog_ he is and how he's so _fluffy_ and _affectionate_ and geez why can't you be like that more often? 
> 
> And in case you were wondering _how_ it happened, well, they were in an AU that had werewolves and Dust got in a fight with one and well this happened.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Edit: Here's a quick drawing I did of Dust's wolf form: https://i.imgur.com/HuT65M1.png


	10. Barking Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to Who Let The Dog Out? 
> 
> Dust is settling in well to the life of a werewolf.... mostly.

All of the usual problems that came with having a werewolf in the household actually weren't as big a deal as anyone had expected. Dust now had a preference for severely undercooked meat? Well, Horror liked his steak pretty damn rare too, it wasn't that hard to _not_ cook another serving or three. He had dreams about running through the woods that left him itching to get out and hunt? They were a marked improvement over the nightmares of his original world that used to haunt him. He suddenly became almost entirely nocturnal? None of them had much of an internal clock anymore, so no one really cared if he slept through noon and stayed up until four in the morning on a regular basis. 

Actually, most of the time it was easy to forget he _was_ a werewolf. He was just Dust, and once a month he would turn into a giant skeletal wolf and run around in the forest all night. After the first few times, they didn't even bother to get up and chase him. He never went too far and always came back the next day as a very tired, footsore skeleton. 

Some nights, though, he insisted on waking his "pack" and dragging them around with him. It usually ended up with everyone in a big fluffy cuddle pile on the ground in the woods somewhere. Those nights were always fun, and the day after was even better. For everyone except Dust, that is.

"Dust! C'mere! C'mere, boy!" Killer called. He hefted a tennis ball in one hand and flung it towards the trees as far as he could, which was quite a ways. "Go fetch!" 

For a moment Dust looked like he was actually going to chase the ball. Then he blinked and shook his head before glaring at Killer. "I'm not a dog!" he protested. 

Cross grinned and slung his arm around Dust's shoulders. "You sure? What if I do…_this_?" He started scratching the underside of Dust's jaw, like he was...well, like he was petting a dog. Dust automatically started to relax into the touch before suddenly screeching and tearing himself out of Cross's grip. 

"A-asshole!" he sputtered indignantly once he was far enough away to dodge any further attempts. "I said I'm not a fucking dog! Stop petting me!" 

"Yer blushing," Horror noted. He was staying out of it for the most part, watching from the courtyard doorway and leaning on his axe. 

Dust's blush grew deeper at the comment and he glared at Horror. "W-well what do you expect?" he hissed. "They're being jerks! It's embarrassing!" 

"You were licking my face last night," Killer volunteered. "We have every right to embarrass you."

Dust let out an animalistic growl that did nothing to help convince the others of his non-dog claims. Killer and Cross glanced at each other and took a couple steps back, silently agreeing to let up on him a little. Ever since his first transformation, he'd retained a little of the enhanced strength and speed of his wolf form, as well as some of his more feral instincts. Basically, neither of them wanted to actually upset him and start a fight. 

A squirrel darted across the yard. 

Dust froze. The only part of him that wasn't still was his eyes as he tracked the animal moving through the grass. The other skeletons all froze as well, hardly daring to breathe as they watched. Dust slowly, slowly fell into a crouch, his gaze never leaving the squirrel. The rodent's fluffy tail flicked as it rose to its haunches and surveyed the yard. It clearly saw the four skeletons, but decided they weren't a threat and twitched its ears disdainfully as it dropped back to the ground. 

A soft growl rose in Dust's throat and he started to creep forward. The squirrel tensed at the sound and sniffed, its tiny black nose twitching madly. Then it let out a shrill chattering scream and leapt up the nearest tree, quickly vanishing into the leaves. 

Dust huffed and stood back up, staring at the leafy green depths of the tree the rodent had vanished into. He looked _exactly_ like a sad puppy who'd expected a treat, but gotten an empty hand and jeering laughter instead.

Horror was the first to laugh. He only chuckled, but it broke the spell that had fallen over the other two. Cross and Killer doubled over, howling with helpless laughter. Dust flinched and a bright blue blush exploded across his features as he remembered where he was.

"Sh-shut up!" he squeaked in an adorably high voice. "That- that didn't happen! You didn't see it!"

Cross had tears in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around Dust. "That was _great_!" he wheezed. "You- _stars_, your face when you saw that squirrel-!" 

Killer was on the ground now and convulsing with laughter. "You're our- you're our _guard dog,_" he managed to get out between gasping breaths. "G-good boy, you saved us from the horrible, bloodthirsty_ squirrel_\- haha!" 

Dust shrieked and tried to squirm out of Cross's iron grip, to no avail. His instincts were still running high from the failed hunt and he snarled a warning, baring his teeth. Horror was the only one who saw the danger in time, the other two so caught up in their hilarity that they didn't even notice Dust's rising ire. 

"Cross!" he barked out in warning, already moving towards them but he was too slow. Dust's eyes flashed and he sank his teeth into Cross's arm. The former guard yelped and dropped Dust, stumbling away and clutching his bleeding arm. There was a burst of magic and Horror was between them. Dust snarled and tried to leap away but Horror grabbed him and tackled him to the ground. He struggled for a moment, teeth snapping on air and hands scrabbling against the dirt as he strained to get away. Quite suddenly, the burning light in his eye died and he went limp. 

While Horror held down Dust, Killer was quick to examine the injury. The bite wasn't deep and the bleeding quickly stopped, but it wasn't the bleeding they were worried about. 

Dust closed his eyes. He could taste the blood on his teeth, wet and warm and sharp with the tang of copper and magic, but it no longer excited his instincts. He felt sick. Horror's weight was crushing him into the ground, but the larger skeleton wasn't nearly as heavy as the guilt that crushed his soul. 

"Let me up," he muttered, voice barely audible. Horror hesitated and Dust winced even as he raised his voice. "I'm okay now. Let me up." 

Horror rolled off and he slowly sat up. Cross was sitting on the ground with Killer hovering over him, the two talking in hushed voices. 

Dust stared at the mark on his friend's arm. The actual bite was nearly hidden under purple smears of magic, and soon it would be completely concealed beneath the bandage Killer was unrolling. 

He couldn't watch anymore and curled into a miserable guilty ball on the ground. If he'd had a tail at that moment, it would be tucked between his legs. _Maybe I should just run off into the woods and never come back,_ he wondered glumly. _Before I bite someone else. _

He could hear the others talking, but he couldn't make out the words. Not that he really tried. They obviously didn't want to include him in the conversation, and he honestly couldn't blame them-

"Dust?" 

A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped. Cross was standing over him and he flinched back, the bitter taste of guilt rising in his throat. The other two were gone. Evidently Cross had asked them for some space. 

"I'm okay," Cross said, but Dust saw right through him. His head was held high but his eyes were dim, his mouth was set in a thin line. Even without the scent rising off him in faint, feeble waves, Dust could tell. He was scared. 

"I'm sorry," Dust blurted quickly. "I didn't mean to! It all happened so quickly and I-" 

"I know," Cross interrupted. He sat down next to Dust. He was cradling his injured arm. "We shouldn't have pushed you like that. I know you don't like being teased about it-"

"- but it was funny," Dust interrupted in his own turn. His voice was quiet. "I don't have to like it, but I know it was. It's not like I wouldn't do the same thing to any of you guys- it's not like I _don't_ do the same thing. I shouldn't have bitten you for it." 

Cross sighed softly and said nothing. After a moment his arm came up around Dust and pulled him closer. 

Dust wanted to resist and pull away, afraid that he might hurt Cross again, but he also wanted to give in and nuzzle close, his wolf instincts screaming at him that it was _right_. He wanted to apologize and _prove_ that he didn't mean any harm, it was all just a horrible accident. 

The decision was made for him when Cross started gently scratching behind his jaw. Dust couldn't resist the touch and leaned against Cross, practically melting into the other skeleton. "I'm sorry," he whispered again. At first he thought that Cross hadn't heard him, but then he sighed and hugged Dust tighter. 

It was several long, quiet minutes before either of them spoke. Cross was the one to break the silence. "It might not… y'know, infect me," he said softly. "The one you fought bit you a bunch, and it was in wolf form at the time. You, uh, didn't bite me that hard, and… yeah." 

Dust closed his eyes. He didn't want Cross to be a wolf. Yeah, it was kinda cool to think about, but it wasn't like he could remember much of what it was like when he changed. It was like someone else took over and did whatever they wanted while the real Dust slept. It was...unsettling. He hadn't hurt anyone yet, but if he attacked his friend, his pack, while he was awake and in his own form, what might he do the next time he changed?

"...Where'd Horror and Kils go?" he asked finally. It was an obvious subject change, but Cross didn't point it out.

"I told them to go ahead and let Nightmare know what happened," he said. "He'll want to talk to us as well, but it can wait a bit. I want to make sure you're okay." 

_Fuck_ Cross and how considerate he was. "I'm not the one who got bit," Dust protested. "How the hell are you so calm about this, anyway?"

Cross chuckled dryly. "There's not much I can do about it, and getting mad will only make things worse. You didn't mean to hurt me. Besides, I don't think being a wolf will be _that_ bad. You seem to have fun when you're running around chasing rabbits and howling at the moon." 

"You might not change," Dust countered, remembering what Cross had said. Stars, he really hoped he was right. "And you should still be mad at me."

"You should shut up and let me pet you," Cross said, smoothing his hand over Dust's skull. "I'm not mad at you. You only bit me because I wouldn't let go when you were obviously upset. I should have been paying more attention. But we're going to stop talking about this now, okay?" 

"Okay," Dust grumbled. Cross was right: there wasn't anything they could do about it now. They would just have to wait and see what happened. And in the meantime, well, he supposed a _little_ petting was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chloecats, hope this didn't dissapoint! It took a slightly different direction than what you outlined, but honestly your comment was what really inspired me to write more at all. I actually wrote this pretty much as soon as I saw your comment, but I didn't have internet to post it. (Which is also why I haven't responded to any comments...)
> 
> Also, to those of you who follow Fever Dreams/Familiar Patterns, I haven't abandoned that story! Progress is slow due to several factors, but I'm working on them, a little bit at a time. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. [Drink] Get Drunked On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ink and Dream's shipname is very accurate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for "drunk" character and throwing up, although it's nothing graphic.

"Hey, what do those taste like, anyway?" 

Ink glanced at Dream. The guardian was curled into his side while Ink sketched, and just a moment ago he had been fast asleep. Now he was looking up at Ink with adorably sleepy sockets. Ink couldn't help laughing a little and he pouted, which somehow made him _even more_ cute. 

"What does what taste like, daydream?" Ink asked. "Peaches? Broomy? Oh, maybe you meant my d-"

"No!" Dream interrupted with a scowl. "Your paints. The vials, the ones that let you feel? You know, the thing you were drinking literally five seconds before I asked that question?" 

Ink stifled another laugh. Sleepy Dream was adorable, but sleepy Dream also had no filter and a surprisingly sharp tongue. Ink was tempted to tease him a little more, but even a soulless monster couldn't resist that face.

"My vials?" he said with a thoughtful him as he plucked one off his sash. "It's hard to describe… it's not really a taste, exactly. It's pleasant, although it's different for each color. Red is sharper, blue is more mellow, yellow is kind of bubbly." 

"Can I try one?" Dream asked. 

Normally, Ink would say no. His paints were _his_, and they were important and not to be messed with, unless Ink was the one messing with them. But Dream was staring at him with such a hopeful expression… Oh. Oh, dammit, his eyelights were quivering now. The little brat knew exactly what he was doing, and Ink knew that he knew, but it didn't make it any less effective. 

Well… it wasn't like the paints would hurt him. Monsters and humans from all kinds of universes had tried stealing his vials in the past, and the few who succeeded were disappointed. They simply didn't affect anyone else. Well, that wasn't strictly true; they affected Flowey, but to a significantly lesser extent than they did Ink. 

Ink did his best not to grin when he passed Dream the vial he was holding, which happened to be yellow. His boyfriend would take a swig of paint, expecting something wonderful, and instead he would get a bunch of chemicals and-

"Oh that's good!" Dream exclaimed after taking a tentative sip. He took a larger swig before Ink could take the vial back. "Damn, you're holding out on me!" 

Ink hastily snatched the vial and clipped it back onto his sash. Dream didn't just taste paint? The only other person who could taste it was Flowey, and he- Did that mean Dream would be affected emotionally as well? 

That question was answered when Dream suddenly giggled and flopped across Ink's lap. "I'm so happy you're here," he sighed. "You're really pretty, you know? Oh wait, would you prefer I say you're handsome? Because you're that too! You're… you're both! You're pretty _and_ handsome." 

"Thanks, you too," Ink said automatically. His mind was still processing this new devolopment. Dream was affected by his paints. _Nani the fuck-?!_

Dream giggled again and patted Ink's cheek. He started laughing suddenly and reached up towards his face again. 

"What's so funny?" Ink asked, a little irked. He swatted away Dream's reaching hands. The guadian didn't seem perturbed and kept laughing. 

"Your face!" he giggled. "Its all covered in pencil dust, and it got on my hand and- snrk!"

Ink blinked once and his eyelights changing to twin question marks. "...are you saying I have your handprint on my face?"

Dream burst into laughter again. Ink sighed, but he couldn't help a little smile of his own. It _was_ kinda funny. 

Ink tried to go back to sketching, but Dream was _very_ distracting. He kept having random fits of laughter, and he wasn't laughing he was clinging to Ink and babbling about how pretty he was and how happy Dream was about him being here. Ink considered giving him some different colors to counter the yellow paint, but he had no way of knowing exactly how it would affect Dream so he decided against it. While experiments were fun, he would rather not mess around with the wellbeing of his boyfriend, thank you very much. 

Dream eventually settled down and started counting the various stains on Ink's clothing. Paint, ink, graphite smudges… there were a lot. He still giggled to himself about something from time to time, but the paint seemed to be slowly wearing off. 

And then, while Ink wasn't paying attention, he stole the yellow vial again. 

"Iiiiiiiink! You should drink some! It's really… reeeaaaallyyy nice!" 

He blinked and looked up from his drawing. "Dream, are you ok- _is that my vial???" _

Dream grinned. "Yup!" he said cheerfully, brandishing said vial. 

"What the hell!? Dream, come on," Ink grumbled, snatching the vial back. For some reason, Dream found this funny and started laughing again. Ink started to reach for the red, then stopped himself. Even if it was a natural reaction, he didn't really want to get mad at Dream. Instead he sighed and closed his sketchbook. 

"You can't just take my paints, daydream," he said firmly. "I know you're really happy right now, and that's great, but if you drink them all then there won't be any left for me." 

Dream pouted. "But I like it," he said. "You can just refill them, and then we can both have plenty!" 

Ink rolled his eyes. "But you don't need it," he said, playfully flicking the side of Dream's skull. "Now your brother, he could definitely use some yellow paint if you ask me," he added with a grin. 

Dream gasped suddenly. "Ink! Ink, we need to give everyone paint! So they can all be happy!" He jumped to his feet and dragged Ink towards the front door. Ink jerked and tried to pull his arm out of Dream's grip, but he was surprisingly strong. 

"W-woah, hey! Slow down!" Ink yelped. "I appreciate the sentiment, but it doesn't work that way!"

Dream slowed and looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?" His eyelights had been stars almost this entire time, but now they returned to their normal round shape as he stared at Ink, clearly confused as to what flaw his plan could _possibly_ have. 

Ink dragged Dream back to the couch and shoved him down onto the cushions before sitting next to him. He did not want Dream running off while in this state. It was like he was drunk! Except not as bad, because a lot of the time drunk people were angry or sad as well as happy, and Dream was only happy right now. 

"Ink, why can't we make them happy?" Dream asked. Despite his pitiful expression, he didn't seem disappointed by Ink's reaction. His voice was still upbeat and curious, not upset "Come onnnn, we just gotta give them the paint! It'll be great!" 

Ink sighed and ran his fingers over his skull. "It's not that simple, mon ange," he began. "My paints only work on soulless creatures- and you, apparently. A lot of other people have tried to use my paints and it doesn't work on them. They just taste like any old paint, gross and chemical-ly. Then they get mad at me for letting them drink something so nasty." Ink snickered quietly at the memory. 

Dream was quiet for several minutes. Ink could practically see the gears turning in his head. 

"...You were trying to trick me!" he exclaimed. Then he started laughing. Again. "You- ha, y-you thought I would think it tastes gross and then you would laugh, but- snrk, you're the one who got tricked! Haha!" 

Ink struggled to keep his cool and failed miserably. Within moments, both of them were laughing uncontrollably. It was funny. 

The two spent an hour there on the couch, cracking dumb jokes and watching stupid videos online. Dream was delighted by literally everything and anything Ink said and did, and Ink was _very_ careful not to let Dream get his hands on any more paint. 

Eventually, Dream started looking rather sick, and finally he shot to his feet and raced to the bathroom. He was in there for half an hour, throwing up every single drop of paint. When he finally emerged, exhausted and completely sober, he swore never to touch Ink's paints again. 

Then he chased Ink around the house for half an hour trying to make him delete all the pictures off his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a little annoyed with myself because I forgot about Valentine's day until it was too late to do anything, but then I remembered I had this sitting in my WIPs. I finished writing it and cleaned it up, and while it's not specifically Valentine's themed, I hope it suffices! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, have a lovely day ^^


	12. Judge and Jury II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a special guest is invited to join the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to go look through my old WIPs more often, this has been sitting around, forgotten, for months.

"**Let me go**."

"No."

"**Let me go, now**."

"Also no."

Error scowled at Dust, who was holding his sleeve while being very careful not to actually touch Error. Dust was grinning, completely unfazed by Error's murderous glare. He knew that if the glitch really wanted to leave he would, and there was nothing Dust could do to stop him.

Since he was still here, that meant he was at least a little bit curious as to what Dust's plans were, and that was good! They needed Error for the plans, which were very fun.

Dust dragged him through the castle to one of the upper rooms. Killer, Cross, and Horror were all waiting, and let out a cheer when they saw Error.

"**This had better be good**," Error warned. "**I was perfectly fine where I was**."

"You were hiding in a corner shoving chocolate in your face," Dust said. "This will be much more fun."

Error turned his glare back on Dust. "**The only reason you aren't dead right now is because I don't want to deal with the octopus**," he hissed. "**For some bizarre reason, he actually likes having you guys around**."

"You wouldn't kill us; you love us," Dust said cheerfully. " But let's get started! Did you guys decide who the judge is?"

Dust ignored Error's obvious confusion and stared expectantly at the others. "Me," Killer said, raising his hand. "Cross and Horror are the jury."

"**What the fuck is this**," Error muttered to himself, but didn't make a move to leave. 

"Ahem, we may now begin the trial," Killer announced. "Error, you are accused of killing a buttload of people, and also dogs."

"No," Cross gasped, eyes widening dramatically. "Not the dogs!" He pretended to faint and sprawled across Horror's lap. Horror shoved him unceremoniously onto the floor.

Killer glared at Cross, but since the guard's eyes were still closed it didn't have much effect. 

"**What the hell is going on here**?" Error demanded, starting to look irritated. Dust quickly started to explain before the glitch could decide to leave. 

"It's a trial. Killer is the judge, and I'm your lawyer. I'm supposed to prove you didn't kill anyone, and he's supposed to prove you did kill people. Then Cross and Horror decide whether you did or didn't depending on who's more convincing," he said. 

Error glanced at the others. They stared back. "**And the point of this is…?**"

"It's fun!" Dust and Cross chorused in unison.

Error groaned and rolled his eyes, but flopped down in a chair. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, after all. 

"Error," Killer began. "As I said a moment ago, you stand accused of killing a bunch of people-"

"**Guilty**," Error called out. Killer faltered, surprised. Dust jerked and looked at Error sharply.

"That's not how you do it!" he exclaimed. "You don't just admit to the crime! We're supposed to convince them you didn't do it!" 

"**But I did do it**," Error said, and if it weren't for the sly grin slowly forming on his face Dust might have thought he really didn't understand the point of the game. 

"Error, come on," Dust pouted. "Yes, you did it, but you don't want them to know that." 

"**Why not?**" Error asked innocently. Dust sighed. 

"Because- because- oh, whatever. He pleads not guilty, Your Honor!"

Killer nodded and continued as though he hadn't just heard the entire exchange. "Error, where were you when the killings happened?"

Error grinned. This was too easy. "**Doing the killing, duh.**"

Dust let out a frustrated screech. Horror and Cross, who were watching the proceedings with great interest, both chuckled. 

Killer glanced at Dust. "Uh, lawyer, do you have anything to add?" he asked. He really wasn't sure how to proceed; this hadn't ever happened before.

Dust glanced at Error, who wasn't even trying to hide his amusement. "...he pleads insanity," Dust said finally. "He obviously isn't in his right mind."

"**You're not wrong,**" Error mused. "**I am pretty nuts, heh.**" 

"Insanity…" Killer mumbled. "Alright… so, is that your entire testimony?" he asked. Dust nodded. "Jury," Killer said sharply. Cross and Horror sat up quickly. "What do you think? Guilty or not guilty?"

Cross frowned thoughtfully. "Not guilty," he said finally. "A monster can't be blamed for insanity."

Horror shoved Cross. "I dunno what you're talkin about," he said. "He's guilty, obviously. Ink's insane and he doesn't kill people. Usually." 

"**I resent that**," Error said indignantly. "**He's insane in an entirely different way.**" 

Dust saw his chance and pounced on it. "He's right!" he said quickly. "You can't compare two very different monsters like that. What applies to one doesn't nessecarily apply to the other."

Horror shrugged and said, "Okay, but he's still guilty."

"We have a tie, then," Killer said. "As judge, I will be the tiebreaker. I say Error is guilty!"

"**Do I get a gold star**?" Error asked. 

"No," Killer said. "You get…hm. Hey, what's the punishment for mass murder?" he asked, glancing at the others. Cross and Horror shrugged. Dust crossed his arms and pouted, irritated that Error wasn't taking things seriously.

"Okay, I'll make it up then," Killer decided when it was clear no one was going to answer him. "Error, for murdering a bunch of people, I hereby sentence you to death."

Error blinked. Once, twice. Then he chuckled. "**You can try**," he said. 

"Wait, really?" Cross asked, looking up from his spot on the floor. He had carved a very nice stick figure family into the wood with his fingertips. One of them looked like it had tentacles. 

Error glanced at Cross. "**No, not really,**" he said, a hint of annoyance returning to his voice. "**I'd tear this place to the fucking ground and then Nightmare really would be pissed.**"

The other four skeletons all thought about that for a few minutes. Usually when someone was sentenced to death, they would all attack him and the game would end in a brawl. They'd never tried attacking Error before, though, and now that they thought about it, maybe that wasn't such a good idea. 

That left them at a loss for how to continue. "On second thought...maybe not death," Killer said slowly. "We'll just...um…" 

"Community service?" Dust suggested, forgetting that he was mad. It had been five minutes, that was long enough to hold a grudge. "Next time we go fight somewhere he has to come help." 

"**Wait, I never agreed to that,**" Error said, becoming slightly alarmed. "**I thought this was a game.**"

"It is," Cross said. "And sometimes games have real-life consequences. They put me on kitchen duty for like a month once." 

"**Fuck this, I'm out**," Error said as he stood up. Before anyone could move or say something, he had torn a hole through reality and stepped through the resulting portal. 

"Huh," Killer said after a moment. "Maybe that's why no one has put him on trial before. He just walks out. Okay, who wants to go catch Ink and try him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't yet decided if I'll write a third installment of this nonsense, but if you guys want to see more then let me know
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
